Amber and Emerald
by Contramancer
Summary: Response to whitetigerwolf's Polyjuice Cat challenge. When Hermione is told her Polyjuice problem is permanent, Harry refuses to let his best friend go through this alone. He chooses to drink a similar potion, and the consequences of that choice are unpredictable and far-reaching. Rating for later themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Amber and Emerald.**

_In response to Whitetigerwolf's Polyjuice Cat Challenge._

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kickstarted this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Requirements:

- Must be Harry/Hermione

- Harry and hermione must both drink Polyjuice potion contaminated with cat hair

- The transformation must be permanent

- IF Harry and/or Hermione become Animagus, it must be a feline

- At some point (it doesn't have to be immediatly after thier transformation) Hermione must go into heat

- Harry and Hermione must be provided with a means to hide their transformations from others

- Harry must spend summers with the Grangers

- Harry and Hermione must learn to fight in thier "new" bodies

- Cream and/or milk and fish must beome beloved food of Harry and Hermione

- Harry and Hermione must both be wary of Lupin at first (they're part feline and he's part canine afterall)

- Harry and Hermione must gain the ability to communicate with cats, and be able to speak to each other useing this ability

Recomended:

- Lemons

- Kittens! Although I should probably clarify and say Harry gets Hermione pregnant at some point

- Sirius declared innocent

- Kittens, this time I'm being serious. Hermione and Harry adopt a real kitten (or cub if you want to use a bigger feline) to raise.

- Mentor Snape

* * *

_[Taken from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Chapter 12.]_

_Hermione let her robes fall and Ron backed into the sink._

_Her face was covered in black fur. Her eyes had gone yellow and there were long pointed ears poking through her hair._

"_It was a c-cat hair!" she howled. "M-Millicent Bulstrode m-must have a cat! And the P-Potion isn't supposed to be used for animal transformations!"_

"_Uh-oh," said Ron._

"_You'll be teased something _dreadful_," said Myrtle happily._

"_It's OK, Hermione," Harry said quickly. "We'll take you up to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey never asks too many questions..."_

_It took a long time to persuade Hermione to leave the bathroom. Moaning Myrtle sped them on their way with a hearty guffaw._

"_Wait till everyone finds out you've got a _tail_!"_

* * *

Chapter 1: Never Alone.

It wasn't that Madam Poppy Pomfrey never asked questions. She preferred to only ask those questions that related to her patients' recovery. When Ron and Harry helped their now-feline friend into her infirmary, for example, she took in everything at a glance.

"Animagus or Polyjuice?" she asked as she moved to assist the bushy-haired girl. Ron's jaw dropped. "And how long ago?" Seeing that the Weasly boy would be little help here, she directed her gaze and questions at Harry.

The boy in question hesitated.

"Hurry up and spit it out," she snapped brusquely. "One is easily dealt with at up to twenty-four hours, but the other has distinct problems if left too long, and time is of the essence."

Harry gulped, and started to come clean. "P-Polyjuice, Madam Pomfrey, but she got a cat hair by mistake. It was about two hours ago when she drank it, and it took us quite a while to get her to come here." He'd managed to give her the pertinent facts without lying, quite a feat in his current state.

Madam Pomfrey stared at him for a few seconds. He was definitely holding something back, but that wasn't important now. Once Hermione was on her bed, the healer bustled back to her cupboards and began gathering potions.

Harry watched as Madam Pomfrey hurried away. The witch had been upset, even he could see that much. Turning to his red-haired friend, the boy- no, the young man made a decision.

"Ron," he said, his voice low. " You should go back to the 's no point in both of us being here. Or missing dinner." While Ron may have argued with him on the first point, the second stopped any argument in its tracks. He was a growing lad after all.

"I'll get a house-elf to bring you something." The redhead grinned. "Maybe some fish, and milk?"

Hermione's accuracy with a ballistic pillow was flawless.

* * *

Morning saw Harry still by Hermione's bedside, although somewhere near midnight he'd lost the battle to stay awake. Hermione herself looked down at his hand, still holding her own, as if to say _I'm never leaving you_. Her hand was still covered in black fur, with retractable claws replacing her fingernails. A quick inspection with her left hand told her that the changes were still in effect. Her face was still furry and bewhiskered, her ear were still pointed and very mobile and her tail was still there. A scraping sound caught her attention, and she looked up in time to see the hospital wing doors open, revealing Madam Pomfrey leading the three professors whose expertise was essential in this situation: Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall and Albus Dumbledore. It shouldn't have been possible, but she also heard their whispered conversation.

"I'm sorry, Albus," Madam Pomfrey began. "Simply too much time had passed. The standard cures and antidotes just didn't work, and it would have been too dangerous to increase the dosage at her age. I'm at my wits' end." The healer's eyes were red-rimmed, and her cheeks were puffy from shed tears. "If the three of you can't help her, young Hermione Granger will never be human again."

It took every ounce of self control the girl had _not_ to gasp at that piece of news. As the teachers approached, she struggled against despair. _What will Mum and Dad think? s_he thought. _Can I still go to school? What am I going to do for work? How am I going to hide this? Can I hide this? Where can I get more fish? _She frowned at herself as the last thought rose to the surface. It seemed she was definitely different.

A hand on her chin dragged her face upwards, to lock eyes with Snape. Her inner cat knew how to deal with being grabbed, and she lashed out, her claws opening several scratches on the potions professor's cheek. On the bright side, he let go of her. However, he was now angry.

Before he could draw his wand however, he felt a hand on his wrist. "Severus, I believe you need to calm down," said Dumbledore. "It seems that Miss Granger's changes, pardon the rhyme, go even deeper than we had thought. Minerva, if you would."

Professor McGonagall drew her own wand, and cast a strange spell: "_Veritas corporis et animo*!_"

Nothing seemed to happen for a few moments, then Hermione was covered with tiny orbs of golden light. As the lights danced across her she noticed Harry shifting his weight. He was awake! Obviously, her best friend didn't want to leave her alone, so he was faking sleep. After about five minutes, the lights began to gather in the transfiguration teacher's hand, where they reshaped themselves, merging into a miniature figure of Hermione... complete with fur, ears and tail.

Madam Pomfrey sighed, and just... drooped, like a wilting flower. Professor McGonagall began weeping, Professor Dumbledore looked filled with sorrow and even Professor Snape seemed at a loss, though probably out of fear and disgust more than sympathy. The headmaster turned towards Hermione, with no twinkle evident in his eyes.

"I am most sorry, Miss Granger," he said. "It seems that there is, at this point in time, no way to return you to your former self. Although we will try to help you, I believe your unfortunate transformation is permanent."

Hermione buried her face in her hands, and began to cry. The teachers looked away, allowing her time, and Professor McGonagall turned to Dumbledore.

"I believe we can bend certain rules under these extenuating circumstances, Albus," she said. "Miss Granger's parents need to be informed, and at this trying time, she needs them here."

Nodding, he agreed. "We shall have to hope that her family and friends are able to accet her now. But remember, Minerva, ultimately, none of us can understand what she is going through alone."

Harry had been listening, and thinking. As far as he could tell, his best friend was never going to be human again, barring a miracle or prodigy of magic, and was going to have to relearn herself alone. He knew loneliness. Hermione and Ron had rescued him from it, and made it all a bit more bearable, just by being there. Ron had his family for support, but Hermione's parents were muggles, if not Dursley-type muggles, who would have trouble understanding this at first. She needed someone who knew what she was going through firsthand, who she could _know_ understood the problem. Even with her parents, if they could accept her new self, it was unlikely that she would find that. Harry made his decision, and as a true Gryffindor, never looked back.

As Hermione dragged her hand from his and began to cry, Harry's hand stole to his pocket, and the flask therein. The flask with the last of the Polyjuice Potion, gathered up as they left Myrtle's bathroom. His other hand removed from his other pocket a hair. The second hair that Hermione had decided she didn't need in the potion. Surreptitiously dropping it into the flask and swirling it around, he drank.

In the silence that followed Albus' declaration to Minerva, silence fell. A silence broken only by the sound of someone swallowing. As everyone's attention moved to Harry, he changed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Spells from the last Chapter:

_Veritas corporis et animo: _Truth of body and soul.

Chapter 2: Always Together

Having already experienced the sensations of a Polyjuice transformation once, Harry thought he was ready for it. He was wrong. True, his insides again writhed like he was filled with live snakes, but this time they were venomous and biting. The burning sensation was an order of magnitude more intense, especially in his abdomen, ears, fingers and toes, as well as at the base of his spine. _Oh crap, the tail! _Reaching under his robes, trying to ignore the rubbery, melting feeling in his bones and muscles, he scrabbled frantically at the back of his pants. Luckily, his new claws were quick to appear, while his tail was slow, allowing him to tear open a seam in time for his brand-new appendage to explode out through the rip. Shortly after that, he felt like someone had set his muscles on fire, and thousands of spiders began to dance across his skin.

No-one could move. By the time any of them had realised what the Boy-who-lived was up to, he'd already done it. The changes were fast, and somewhat disturbing to watch. By the time Hermione had drawn enough breath to scream his name, it was done.

"HARRY!" His newly-sensitive ears lay flat back from her yell as he raised his vividly emerald eyes to meet her amber ones. "Why did you do that? What were you thinking? Or were you?"

Glancing at the assembled staff, he nodded. "Of course I was," he whispered, as Madam Pomfrey looked at her recently emptied bottles of cures and antidotes for Polyjuice, and shook her head. "You're my best friend, Hermione, other than Ron. But he's got a huge family and other friends, too. You've just got your Mum and Dad, and you need me more than he does. I know alone, Hermione, and you don't have to be, because I'll be right there." It was at that point that she hugged him, hard. A little embarrassed, he blushed and somewhat awkwardly, returned the gesture.

Professor McGonagall was touched. A brave young man made the choice to not let his friend suffer alone, but there was no way that Harry knew the full details of what awaited them. She turned to Snape. "Do we have time?"

The potions master's sneer had not yet returned to his face, and there was something in his voice as he replied... respect? No, it couldn't be. "Even if I started right now, the simplest antidotes take an hour to brew, and by then they'd have no effect. Congratulations, Potter. You've managed to gather even more celebrity for yourself. If you can survive the Ministry's prejudice against non-humans of course. On top of that, the preparations for those restorative potions aren't going to make themselves, you know." With that, he left, his black cloak billowing behind him as if in a wind no one else was touched by.

Madam Pomfrey sat in the chair opposite Harry with her head in her hands.

"You brave, kind and foolish boy," she said. "Do you even realise what you've done?"

"Erm... why does that sound like you think I've done more than just stop my best friend from being lonely?" Harry rubbed at his new ears with his left hand. "I thought she'd need someone who understood what she was going through, and it didn't look like something you could understand without going through it yourself, so... Did I do something wrong?"

"Harry," said a soft, sad voice from the vicinity of his chest. "You shouldn't have done this just for me. I don't even know how Mum and Dad are going to take this. Why should you risk losing you family over this?" Hermione locked gazes with him. "Don't you want to go home?"

A snort, followed by bitter laughter. Harry squeezed her a little tighter as the three adults watched. Hermione was puzzled by his response.

"I 'go home' every September, Hermione. As far as I'm concerned, this is my home, right here at Hogwarts, and not back at Durzkaban. They're not family, they're just relatives." He paused in his rant. "I read in a book, can't remember which one right now, that friends are the family you choose. If that's true, then you and Ron are more family to me than the Dursleys could ever be."

"Be that as it may," Madam Pomfrey interrupted them, "The two of you are, as far as I know, the only ones like yourselves in all of Britain, maybe the world." Although the Japanese had legends about _Nekojin_. "I'm going to need you both to stay here while I cast several diagnostic spells, to see what I can learn about you both. How much of you is cat, for example, as well as how exactly that will affect your minds and bodies."

The headmaster spoke up at this point. "Do keep us posted, Poppy. I believe they are going to need a great deal of assistance soon. I shall have Severus teach them a potion or two to hide their external traits."

"Not so fast, Albus," Professor McGonagall said. "Severus' attitude towards Mister Potter is known to be... shall we say adversarial? There is no way I shall accept him teaching them alone. For this extra mentoring, I shall also be present, as their Head of House. Unless you have an objection?"

The twinkle had returned to Dumbledore's eyes. "Whyever should I object? It puts you in a perfect place to teach them more about their feline side. And before you ask, if you are not willing to be their mentor in this, I will have to leave that side of their education to either Hagrid or Arabella."

* * *

Ron Weasley had an... intriguing mind. It was possessed of extraordinary focus, but thus far in his life, he had only focused on a few things. Food, which only required enough focus to remember to chew before swallowing (although he sometimes forgot). Quidditch required somewhat more focus, but he seemed to have both more talent or less than he believed, depending on his mood that day. And Chess, a game he had been unbeaten in since his Uncle taught him to play (Okay, except for Ginny, who'd beaten him once- how could he have fallen for a scholar's mate?). Now, his friend, Hermione, needed support. The redhead had noticed that he and she fought like the proverbial kneazels and grims. They were total opposites, and the major point that the two had in common was their singular friendship with Harry. Since Harry was staying with Hermione in the hospital wing, Ron came up with a plan. A plan that actually made him use all three of his specialties.

Step one, he decided, was Chess. He grabbed his Wizard Chess set from the boy's dorms, and set off down to the Great Hall early. This was the easy part.

Step two involved Quidditch. Sort of. It didn't take him long to track down his brothers. Not Percy, of course, he was too busy being a paragon of the rules. No, he wanted the twin paragons of rule-breaking, Fred and George. Needless to say, he found them.

"Hey, Fred," he called out. "I need a favour. Well, two actually."

"I'm George, that's Fred," began the twin he'd spoken to.

"I thought I was George," continued the other. "Why does no-one tell me these things? Hang on, if I'm Fred, then..."

Ron cut in before the twins could get much momentum. "That's right, it's Tuesday." Knowing how his brothers felt about stolen punchlines, he barreled on. "Look, the favours aren't for me, they're for Harry and Hermione. There was an incident yesterday, and he stayed in the hospital wing with her last night. They're probably pretty hungry right now. I was hoping you'd show me how to get to the kitchens, so I could get breakfast for them."

Fred looked at George. Their thick-as- two-bricks brother had broken into a punchline, and asked for food. It had happened before, they had to admit, but the thing was, this time it was for someone else. Deciding on the spot to encourage this change in Ron, the twins reached out.

"Of course, we'll show you the way," said Fred as he draped his arm across their little brother's shoulders.

"But in return, we'd like to hear about this incident," chimed in George, as he trapped Ron from the other side.

"Unless our..."

"Dear brother..."

"Would like to..."

"Volunteer as..."

"A subject to test..."

"Certain items upon which we are working." Fred and George had their twin-speak patter down to an art.

Ron had a bad feeling about this. It would be so easy to spill the beans, but...

"It's not my story, guys," he said, with uncharacteristic determination. " If they say it's OK, then I'll tell you. But if they don't, you'll have a subject." He gulped.

"Fair enough," they chorused. "Now here's how to find the kitchens..."

* * *

Step three, Ron had determined was the food. After giving Ron a decent meal, the house-elves had happily prepared a breakfast as he requested. And they were even happier to deliver it, but Ron asked them to wait until he called them. So down to the hospital wing he ran, where he ran up to Hermione's bed. And caught sight of the new Harry.

"FLIPPIN' HECK!" Ron still couldn't handle surprises very well. "What happened, Harry? That ption wasn't... catching, was it?" The youngest Weasly boy immediately started checking himself for various feline features.

As Madam Pomfrey approached the source of the yell, she was surprised to hear both Harry and Hermione laughing. "No, Ron," The bushy-haired cat-girl gasped. "You can't... catch it."

Harry wasn't laughing quite as hard, but his grin was still evident, along with a few fangs at the corners of his mouth. "I grabbed the last of the Polyjuice, Ron. Madam Pomfrey exhausted her cures for it trying to restore Hermione, but it was too late. And since all the mandrakes will be needed for the restoration of the petrified, there wouldn't be enough of that either. After all, her life wasn't actually in danger. So, she's going to be like this for the rest of her life. I couldn't let her go that alone, Ron. I couldn't." Harry's slitted emerald eyes were begging Ron to understand.

"Yeah, I can see that, Harry. Hang on a mo, I got a surprise together, an' this surprise just about drove it out of my head." As he turned away, the redhead caught a glimpse of Hermione's hand stroking Harry's arm. He was fairly sure they didn't realise it though. He grinned to himself briefly at figuring out something before his friends, and called for Stroder, the house-elf he'd spoken with in the kitchens.

"You called, Mister Wheezy?"

"Yeah, could you do me a favour and bring these two their brekkie?"

Harry looked puzzled, and the expression on Hermione's face was priceless, Ron thought, as the breakfast appeared. Tuna omelettes, with glasses of milk.

Ron found that both of his friends were accurate with pillows.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Chapter 3: Change is Good

Michael Granger was a dentist. So was his wife, Samantha. They were very intelligent people, with a very intelligent daughter. When they had originally discovered that Hermione was a witch, let alone that magic was real, they remembered several incidents which couldn't be otherwise explained. When Professor McGonagall visited them and demonstrated a few spells for them, they believed. When they saw Diagon Alley, they knew. This world wasn't theirs, and they could only be outsiders here, where their beloved daughter seemed to come alive. To say this was an unpleasant realisation for the Grangers was like saying Lucius Malfoy was stuck-up. Accurate, but not really conveying the full impact.

They had resigned themselves to losing their daughter to this world, when her letters began to arrive. The first few detailed a school life that was all too familiar. Hermione's routine involved learning, then helping others to learn. But most of the people she'd tried to help taunted her as a know-it-all. The only exception was this Harry Potter boy, who had major problems of his own. By Halloween of her first year, her parents were ready to move to Australia if that was what it took to make their little girl happier.

Her next letter was different. On Halloween, a boy had insulted her for trying to help him in class, and with the way almost everyone else was treating her it was the straw that broke the camel's back. She'd spent most of the day crying in the bathroom. Then a troll had gotten into the castle, and Harry had come to save her. The Grangers were fairly sure this was a bigger deal than their child was letting on. From then on, Hermione's letters included her friends and the things they did together.

When she missed writing a letter this week, Samantha had started to worry. She never missed letters. Michael was not _as_ bothered, ascribing it to getting caught up at school, or with her new friends (although he still wasn't entirely happy that they were both boys).

The knock at the door immediately grabbed their attention.

Upon opening their front door, the Grangers were met with the sight of Professor Minerva McGonagall and a man who looked like a (much) thinner version of Santa. Shortly after that, Samantha was pouring tea in their living room, as all four sat around the coffee table.

It was the transfiguration professor that started the ball rolling. "Mr and Mrs Granger, may I introduce Albus Dumbledore, headmaster at Hogwarts. There has been an... incident at school involving young miss Granger that we will need to discuss."

Steeling himself for the worst, Michael responded. "Is our daughter alive?" At the teacher's nod, he continued. "Healthy?" Another nod. "Happy?"

The white haired man sat up, and lowered his teacup. "That is yet to be determined, I'm sorry to say. Let me tell you what I can." Albus Dumbledore proceeded to bring Hermione's parents up to speed on what had happened.

* * *

"...and then young Harry refused to let her go through with this alone, and underwent the exact same transformation. By the time we realised what he was up to, it was done. I, personally, felt we had failed your daughter in some way, failed all of our students, in fact, and then this brave young man, certainly not a boy any more, did this for his friend. And in a manner that upheld the virtues of all four Houses, at that." The two teachers bowed their heads. "We are so very sorry that we couldn't do more for them."

Michael sighed and thought hard as his wife answered. "I don't see what else you could have done. They were clever enough to conceal their little experiment, and when something went wrong, they didn't waste time. Besides," here she waved at the many bookshelves, "trying to stop our Hermione from learning is like asking an avalanche not to fall on you. Wastes your time and no change in trajectory. So what happens now?"

Dumbledore smiled weakly. "As I am certain Minerva pointed out last year, in most situations, muggles are not able to see Hogwarts, nor to go there, but I believe this is one of those times when the rules against it must be set aside. She is going to need you there, if only to see that you still love her."

"So, that's settled," Michael said. "Now, since you're here, I don't suppose you can clarify a few things from Hermione's letters for us? For example, Halloween last year she mentioned a troll?"

* * *

Meanwhile, in a certain castle in Scotland, Ron once again approached the twins. Harry and Hermione had been a little tricky to persuade, but Ron was insistent that Fred and George would be able to help them, if let in on the secret. "I tell you, those two are smarter than their grades make them out to be. If it involves a secret or a prank, they can do _anything_. Except get away from Ginny." So here he was.

He was fairly sure it was George who spoke first. "Oh, looky here, Gred, it seems that Ron has found us." Then they were off with their twinspeak.

"So what can..."

"The likes of us..."

"Do for you today?"

Ron quickly laid out the events of the last couple of days. With both Harry _and_ Hermione in the hospital wing, he'd been drafted into taking notes of each lesson. His notes weren't as comprehensive as Hermione's might have been, but they were more than he was used to taking. Sadly, Ron had been unable to avoid learning something in the process. He was actually a dab hand at transfiguration. The brevity of his notes had also made the other two work harder at the books to make sense of assignments, but they were, and Hermione especially, missing going to class. So Ron came up with a plan.

"I had an idea, don't worry, I'll be nice to the poor lost thing." At this the twins chuckled. Maybe their little brother was growing up after all. "Since they can't show up looking like cats, and since you two are pretty good at those pranks and illusions of yours, maybe we can figure out something to make them look like they used to?"

"Ron," they chorused, "welcome aboard."

* * *

The castle itself was quite a sight for the Grangers. Dumbledore gave them a quick tour as they made their way to the hospital wing.

"It is one of the quirks of the castle," he explained, "that on someone's first visit here, the Grand Tour is the fastest way to get where you want to go. I do believe the school likes to... well, show off a bit." After learning a few details of what had happened here last year, a slightly vain castle didn't faze the two muggles in the slightest. They just wanted to get to their daughter.

The headmaster led them through the doors to the hospital wing and over to the beds where the youngsters slept, with the dancing lights of Madam Pomfrey's diagnostic charms circling them, as the erstwhile healer took notes on parchment.

The changes were obvious, and both Grangers gasped as the ears and tails of the children flick about in their sleep. As Sam moved over to her daughter, glancing at what she saw as a medical professional for permission, which Madam Pomfrey smilingly gave, began to stroke her daughter's hair. None of them were truly prepared when the girl began to purr!

Michael noticed that the Potter kid, who seemed to be asleep, opened one eye as his wife approached Hermione, and tensed. When his friend began purring, however, all the tension disappeared, the emerald eye closed, and he was once more 'asleep'. The dentist remembered that cats slept light and often. _Catnaps as it were, heh._

After a few minutes, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Pomfrey and the Grangers moved away from the beds. Madam Pomfrey cast a Privacy Charm, which had Dumbledore raising an eyebrow. Taking a deep breath, the healer began to speak.

"As far as I can tell, it's permanent. They've been totally transformed, right down to the smallest pieces of themselves. What is that muggle word? Jeans?"

"Spelt G-E-N-E-S," said Samantha, gesturing for Poppy to go on.

"Their muscles, nerves and skeletal structure are definitely feline. Their ligaments are more elastic, their senses are much better, Mr Potter won't even need his glasses to see with. They are stronger, faster and more agile than they were. But the downside is that they are more instinctual at the moment. They are going to need to adjust."

"Severus and I can help them there," said Minerva. "I'll be teaching them about cats and their new instincts, while Severus will teach them to block their minds, we call it Occlumency. I just wish we could do more..."

"Hang on a second," Michael said. "My aunt raised cats, so I know a bit about them." He turned to Madam Pomfrey. "You said they were going to more instinctual, right?" At Poppy's nod he went on. "Cats are very... _sensual_ creatures, when they trust someone. What about... other instincts, do I have to threaten the young man in that bed over there to keep his paws off our daughter?" As everyone giggled at him he realised what he'd said. _Dammit, cat jokes are going to be the least of it._

Once they'd stopped laughing, Madam Pomfrey answered frankly. "I don't know. This sort of thing has happened before, or there wouldn't be cures and antidotes. But not with felines. It's usually dogs. We also have the situation of two people undergoing this together. That has _never_ happened before that we know of." Pausing, she went over her notes. "It is likely that they have... _those _instincts, but how bad it will hit them, or even when, I have no idea."

Together the adults looked back at the children. As they had moved away, Harry had sat beside Hermione and began stroking her hair, getting her to purr again.

Samantha grinned at her husband. "Perhaps the boyfriend talk would be a good idea?"

* * *

Michael Granger didn't wind up giving the boyfriend talk that day. It was more the sort of thing to do in a more private setting. Besides, he had a vague feeling he would have been setting himself up for some kind of jest. He hated being someone else's straight man. Instead, he and his wife spoke with the children about the things they'd gotten up to. The ones that had _somehow_ managed to become downplayed or understated when Hermione relayed the news to them.

"Honey, we understand you don't want to be dragged out of Hogwarts, especially since you finally have friends, but when you're in trouble, we need to know exactly how big it is. When you said you'd been saved from a troll by Harry here, we came to a false conclusion about how dangerous a mountain troll is." Michael was trying to be stern but fair, but he felt like he was drop-kicking a kitten. "Now look, the Headmaster was only able to clear our being here for one day, so tell us everything, all right."

That afternoon, the Grangers were introduced to Ron. The redhead had been hanging out with the twins, and somehow had kept them from pranking anyone that day.

"The twins'll deny that of course, they'd say we were pranking everyone," Ron said. Mr Granger had been a bit unnerving when he asked about the troll incident, and why Hermione had been in that bathroom at all. Ron had gulped, and answered honestly. "I was a prat. She was trying to help me, and I got jealous that a girl could do it better than me and started venting. I could blame the twins and growing up being pranked and teased, but it was my brain disconnect that made me say it all."

The tall, brown haired man who pulled out people's teeth for a living leaned down and stared him in the eyes. Ron had never been so scared. He would rather face another troll or two, right now, wandless, than Hermione's dad if he was angry. "OK, then. See it doesn't happen again."

The relief Ron felt at that was almost a solid presence, as Harry and all three Grangers laughed.

The youngest Weasly boy drew in a deep breath. "Look, guys, I've got something here for the two of you. I know I'm no good at charms and stuff, and my notes aren't as good as being in class,except for potions, where anything that keeps you out of Snape's sight is good. So you need to go to class yourselves. Then I thought about what needed to happen. I laid it out like a chess game, see, and once I did, everything just... I don't know, _clicked_. So, if you need to be in class, you need to hide your... well, kittiness, if that's even a word. For keeping stuff concealed, I would go to the twins, so I got them to make these for you."

Ron held out two long bands of leather, each with a buckle at the end and an empty bell in the middle. As everyone realised they were collars, Ron explained. "Once you wear them, no-one else can trigger them. If you want to put up or take down the glamour, just flick the bell with your left middle finger."

Harry and Hermione wasted no time in trying out the collars, and were very happy. Ron got hugged by both cat-children and Mrs Granger, while the big scary dentist just shook his hand.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Chapter 4: Everybody Wants To Be a Cat

Harry and Hermione moved through the corridors quickly, racing each other from class to class. They had a hard time resisting the urge to leap from one staircase to the next, but managed it, if only barely. They had one class left that day, and their first mentoring session with McGonagall and Snape that evening. In their DADA lesson that day, they found that neither of them could stomach Lockhart's 'cologne', gagging on the horribly artificial scent. Hermione's crush on the git died then and there, as he insisted on seeing what was wrong personally.

As he'd moved closer, Harry had spoken quietly, mostly to avoid inhaling.

"Professor, do you know what a dentist is?" There was no way the smarmy ponce didn't, not with that smile. "Hermione's dad is one, and I don't think it's a good idea to upset someone whose father pulls out teeth for a living." Lockhart had backed off at that. In herbology, they'd found out that Seamus Finnigan was allergic to cats, including themselves, and he'd spent the lesson wondering why he kept sneezing near them. Eventually, he wrote it off as one of the Weasly twins' pranks.

Arriving at their Charms classroom, they were met by Professor Flitwick. His lesson that day was focused on the basic charms for that year, mostly wand movements. At the end of the lesson, he introduced what he called the Schroedinger Charm: _Vacuos_, which was supposed to permit the caster to walk through solid objects. The wand motion was complex and quick, and by the end of the lesson only Harry and Hermione had mastered it, each earning ten points for Gryffindor. Ron somehow turned his wand insubstantial, and had to have the diminutive teacher reverse it.

"I think I need a new one," he muttered. "But Mum hasn't forgotten the car incident yet."

"That's alright, mate," Harry replied from the floor of the common room. "You're still ahead of Malfoy." The Slytherin had failed to cast the spell, and also failed to realise it, so he confidently swaggered forward and broke _his own nose_ against the wall. Only the three friends and Professor Flitwick knew that the cat-children's feline reflexes were what let them pick up on the motions so quickly.

"It's time, Harry," called Hermione from across the room. The two friends had decided to keep a certain amount of physical distance between them in front of others. If they didn't, they had a tendency to stroke at each other's hair and fur, just to hear them purr. That could be embarassing.

As they left the common room, they were accosted by a Prefect. Of course, with Harry's luck it was Percy.

"Where do you two think you're going?" he asked.

"It's alright, Percy," Ron called out. "They've got detentions with Snape and McGonagall for the upset which had them in the hospital wing over Christmas." He winked at his best friends. They weren't slow to get the hint, and as Percy stood aside, clambered through the portrait hole and scarpered.

* * *

The first thing they learned in their lesson was an exercise to enhance their mental control. "You should focus on something," Snape lectured, "something small but significant, and pour your mind into it. Once you have achieved this, we can move on." Try as they might, however, Harry and Hermione couldn't sit still. It didn't help that their teacher made them as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

Professor McGonagall was in her animagus form. It was somewhat strenuous for a witch of her age to constantly switch back and forth so she could explain about cats, and then demonstrate. It was while she was a cat that they made an incredible discovery.

**_I wish you could understand me as a cat_****,** she muttered, **_then I wouldn't have to keep changing back and forth_****.**

**_OK, Professor,_** Hermione replied absently, **_If that's how you want to do it_****.**

Harry, it was quickly discovered, could also understand the _lingua felinarum_, and that portion of the lesson passed much more swiftly.

* * *

Over the next few days, Harry, Hermione and Ron also made a few discoveries. First, although well-crafted, the glamours on the collars became uncomfortable with prolonged use, and so the cat-children kept them off when they were free of observation. This also had the effect of letting them become accustomed to their feline selves. Despite the changes from the transformation, anything major about themselves remained. There was, of course, Harry's famous scar, which now manifested in a lightning bolt of white fur on his brow. Their hair was, perhaps unfairly, unchanged, unmanageable and now almost constantly wild from their physical exertions.

It was during a meditation session for Occlumency that Harry made a breakthrough. While he was trying to pour himself into a stone, he recalled a vivid memory as Professor Snape pushed into his mind. The memory of the day Hermione's parents came to see her, and the first time he heard her purr. Desperate to hide this potentially embarassing revelation from the greasy-haired potions master, Harry poured his whole mind into the first thing he thought of- the sound of his friend's contentment, her purr.

The constant rumble in Harry's mind was a distraction to Snape, who steadfastly pushed it aside, and started searching.

Harry hissed and yowled in _lingua felinarum_, telling Hermione what he'd done. By the time Snape abandoned Harry's mind and entered hers, she had managed the same thing.

_More of that cursed rumbling, _thought the potions teacher._ I'm going to need headache relief potions after this._ Pushing aside the horrible noise, he tried to search this mind.

Professor McGonagall watched as Severus became more and more agitated. Finally he threw up his hands in pain. "Potter! Granger! What is that infernal thundering in your heads?"

The feline friends looked up at him with wide-eyed innocence (or some reasonable facsimile thereof). "I'm sorry, Professor," Harry said, "but I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Nor do I, sir," Hermione chipped in. "Are you feeling alright? Maybe Madam Pomfrey should take a look at you, Professor. You could be catching something."

* * *

That night, as they were returning to the Gryffindor dormitories, they heard the slap of bare feet on stone, and the splashing of water on tiles. They were near Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

_**Let's split up,**_Hermione whispered, _**I'll check the bathroom, you see who that was.**_

On the surface, Harry could find no flaws in her plan, and moved quickly in pursuit of the mysterious stranger. Hermione braced herself and pushed open the bathroom door.

Myrtle's crying echoed out of her toilet, which was starting to overflow. Something was blocking up the pipe.

"Excuse me," Hermione asked, "but what's wrong?"

The ghost popped up from the loo, obviously distraught, and angry. Upon seeing Hermione, who had her glamour up, she seemed a little calmer. "I don't know. I was minding my own business, sitting in the U-bend, when someone goes and flushes a book through my head."

Hermione sympathised. "The nerve of some people. Thinking just because you're not solid that you don't have feelings. If you didn't, you'd have never become a ghost in the first place."

Myrtle turned to the disguised feline. "No-one's ever understood that," she said. "Do you think you can get it out?"

"I'll try, then I have to get back to our dormitories," Hermione said, with an 'I'm sorry' smile, "and if you can get Mr Filch's attention before the mess gets too bad, he'll probably thank you for saving him work."

As Myrtle disappeared through the wall. The cat-girl braced herself for the unpleasantness of what she was about to do. Her nose _told_ her the water was clean, but... it was _wet_, and her fur would feel strange until it dried. Yes, she had drying charms, and she used them after each shower, too, but still... _wet._

Taking a deep breath, she plunged her arm into the loo.

* * *

Harry had almost caught up to whoever it was he was... hunting. He'd paused a moment, to throw on his invisibility cloak and remove his shoes and socks. Barefoot, he was much quieter, and could even sneak up on the new Hermione a lot of the time. It looked like the mystery person was heading up to the Gryffindor tower. Unless he wanted to be noticed, he'd have to cut short the chase. But he could try to catch their scent.

Inhaling, he smelled the stranger. It was a girl, that was plain, and she smelled of ginger and strawberries, an odd combination, that. She smelled familiar, but unless he wanted to start a riot by sniffing every girl in the dorms, He'd have to write this hunt off as a failure.

Turning around, he swiftly and softly raced back to his friend.

Hermione was _not_ a happy kitty. Her arm was soaked to the shoulder, the front of her robes was drenched, and all for a diary no-one had written in. She'd begun to catch up to Harry when he suddenly appeared, as he threw his cloak across her shoulders. After she also removed her own footwear, dangling her shoes around her neck as Harry did, the two of them flicked their bells. The two cat-children began to head back to the Gryffindor dormitories, discussing the night's events as they did.

* * *

Ron was sitting in the common room, as were a few other students, including Percy. As his two best friends stepped through the portrait hole, luckily with their glamours active, he was playing a game of Wizard's Chess against his brother. He was _also_, "to make it more challenging" trying to finish potions homework. Even with the handicap of multitasking, he was winning.

"Hey, guys," he called to his friends, "how was _detention_?"

"Don't ask," Harry replied. "At least we're done for now."

Percy stood up after laying down his king. "If that's it, I'm off to bed." As he brushed past Harry, the cat-boy caught a whiff of ginger and wand-polish.

In whispers Hermione told Ron what had happened. He found it particularly funny that Snape, in trying to search their memories, kept pushing aside the very things he sought. The diary, however, had him paying attention.

"Hermione, you should show that to Professor Dumbledore," the redhead said. "I mean some books can be really dangerous. There's one that sends you mad if you read so much as a single page, and I heard from Bill about some books that had the power over life and death. He's a curse-breaker for Gringott's in Egypt, so he'd know."

Harry's news had him interested, too. "So it's a girl from our dorms, huh?" he thought aloud. "Let's see, there were three girls who came in before the end of Percy's prefect patrol. Parvati, Katie Bell, but she was with Wood, and before them Ginny. You don't think it could have been her, do you?"

"I don't know, Ron," Harry said. "Well, in the morning, we take the book to the headmaster." As Hermione looked up at him, he reassured her. "He's right, Hermione. With all the danger we've already run into at Hogwarts, the way my luck runs then Voldemort's smuggled himself in disguised as a teenaged girl's diary."


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "_Thoughts_"; _**Lingua Felinarum**_; {_Parseltongue_}.

Chapter 5: Differently Normal

Hermione _meant _to take the diary to the headmaster, truly. She woke up the next morning full of energy. She was tense, almost aching for... something. She paused as she dressed, trying to pin down exactly what she wanted, but every time she did, her thoughts kept drifting to her best friend. Nervous, twitchy and with a sensation like liquid heat in her muscles, she finished dressing and went down to breakfast. As she passed the stairway to the boys dorms, she absent-mindedly rubbed at her collar. The glamour felt especially uncomfortable today...

Harry woke up with a strange sense of foreboding. He couldn't remember what he'd been dreaming, just the scent of chocolate and cinnamon. He could still smell it, but faintly, as though at a distance. Throwing a pillow at Ron's curtains to wake him, his friend having placed a Silencing Charm on them to moderate his snoring,he dressed, rubbing at his collar a lot. "_Damn thing _itches _today, like never before. Maybe I should ask the twins to build in flea repellent charms?_"

Shrugging off the stray thought, Harry went down to breakfast, unconsciously following the scent of cinnamon and chocolate as it grew stronger.

Struggling from the clutches of sleep, Ron had neither excess energy, indeed he had his usual trouble getting going, nor the sense of ominous change lurking in ambush. He wanted to be there for his friends, and feared they were leaving him behind. Harry had been back at the dorms for a single night when Ron had decided to secure Scabber's cage, taking it to Professor Flitwick for the Unbreakable Charm and blood-sealed Locking Charm so only he could open it, just in case. As he dressed, Ron forced himself to think. He was certain that he'd never be as clever as Hermione, nor was he likely to be as powerful as either of his friends. But he _was_ good at strategy, was there some way he could develop that? With his mind on other matters, he wandered down towards the food.

* * *

It was impossible for the Feline couple to _not_ hear Lockhart's bragging to the other teachers.

"Shouldn't think there'll be much trouble, now," he said, grinning that ridiculous smile. "whoever did this has surely heard that I'm on their trail. It wouldn't surprise me if the Chamber of Secrets had been locked for good." As he boasted, he tapped the side of his nose in what was supposed to be a knowing manner. Harry thought he looked an idiot. "What the school really needs is a morale booster. I know just the thing! Leave it all to me!"

Hermione glanced at Harry worriedly. Unfortunately, he looked just as concerned.

Ernie Macmillan from Hufflepuff was still convinced that Harry was the 'Heir of Slytherin', and that this whole mess was his fault. Harry, feeling a little distracted by the scent of cinnamon and chocolate, wasn't reacting as quickly as he could have. Hermione was almost as distracted, fighting her urge to flop next to Harry and just... snuggle till she purred, so she didn't notice what was going on until it was too late.

As the pair stood, with full intent to approach the headmaster, Ernie grabbed the collar of Harry's robes, and without knowing, his glamour-casting collar as well. The Weasly twins' creation was sturdy, but it was still just a collar, and tore, all of its magic gone in a snap, revealing Harry's feline form. Almost everyone froze. Harry and Hermione reacted.

The cat-boy slashed his claws at Ernie's arm, drawing blood as he broke loose, and shoulder barged the Hufflepuff back. Hermione pounced. As she drove the bleeding boy to the ground by landing squarely on his shoulders, she was, well, yowling. _**My Harry! Mine! Back Off!**_

The yowling may well have saved Macmillan's life, as Harry paused. _**Your Harry?**_

There was silence in the Great Hall, with all eyes on Harry. No-one moved, although Draco Malfoy started immediately composing his next letter home with malicious glee. Harry's new countenance had shocked them all, and Hermione's attack had everyone shocked.

"Well," said Hermione as she looked around at the gawking faces, "since the cat's out of the bag, anyway..." She reached for her own collar as Harry chuckled at the unintended pun, and dropped her own glamours.

If silence described the utter lack of noise and total shock that had filled the Hall at Harry's revelation, then the silence somehow deepened at Hermione's. Then a single sound broke it. A soft clapping, as Ron Weasly gave his wordless support to his feline friends.

The diary was forgotten, for now.

* * *

Over the following days, Hermione's vitality just grew. She was filled with an almost nervous energy, and was very edgy. She found herself trying to focus on a single scent, reminiscent of licorice and mint, and found it most often near Harry, whom she tried (and mostly failed) to avoid pressing against. There were obvious concerns, as Madam Pomfrey took her aside after a check up and gave her several soft pink potions. "Take these after your cycle's bleeding stops each month," the mediwitch ordered, "unless you want to wind up with a litter of little furballs." Having shocked the girl enough to ensure compliance, the older witch returned to her duties. Hermione drank her first potion then and there.

Harry had attracted fear and suspicion as the 'Heir of Slytherin', and being discovered to be 'differently normal' than the other students, as Ron put it in a moment of sympathy, didn't improve it. Those students who had cats were worried their pets would become loyal to him now, never mind that no-one told a cat what to do. It was frustrating, although it was a considerable relief not to have his glamour active all the time anymore.

It was several days before they remembered the diary. Rummaging through Hermione's book bag, they gathered in a quiet corner of the common room. Examining the little book, they found the name on it. Whoever T M Riddle was, he was most likely muggle-born or -raised, since the diary came from Vauxhall Road. Although she tried, nothing Hermione knew of could reveal any writing in the little book.

"But I know I've seen that name somewhere before," Ron grumbled on their way to bed. He didn't see his little sister, lurking nearby and trying to pluck up the courage to talk to the famous _Harry Potter_, jump, and go very nearly white.

* * *

As the three friends approached the Great Hall on St Valentine's Day, Harry and Hermione both gagged and retched. There was some horrendous smell, as if a perfume factory had _died_ in there. The felines couldn't get close, as the smell just _rolled_ out of the Hall and hammered their poor noses. The only way they could override that, that stench, was to bury their noses in the fur at each other's neck. That brought up a whole new set of problems.

Harry found the source of the tantalising scent he'd been looking for, now of all days, and it was Hermione! It was a muted version of the scent, fortunately, or his inner cat, already pushing at the barriers within his mind, would have had control, and that could only make this situation worse. Pushing his head against that little spot on her neck, the emerald-eyed boy gathered all his willpower.

Hermione on the other hand, had also identified a mysterious scent, as Harry's odour was identical to the licorice and mint she'd been smelling for the past week. To escape whatever was causing the stench, she also burrowed against the source of the wonderful scent.

Ron watched, somewhat confused as his two best friends staggered as if physically struck, and collapsed in obvious distress, at least until they managed to push their noses into each others' fur. He, along with anyone else who was watching was surprised when they bit each other gently near the base of the neck. He could smell the perfume Lockhart had doused the Great Hall with, and figured the fraud was up to something. There wasn't much he could do about that alone, though. Looking at everyone who had paused in the hallway, mostly Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, with the occasional Ravenclaw, and stepped forwards.

"OI! Attention, Please!" he bellowed. "Whatever is doing this is coming from the Great Hall. The kitty couple can't do much about it and need help. Everyone who can, let's scourgify it until the smell is gone." With that, he turned and walked into the Great Hall, and as Lockhart, the prat, opened his mouth to speak, began casting the cleaning spell. As the other students from the corridor walked in and started doing the same, with Neville Longbottom and Susan Bones leading them in Ron's wake, Lockhart found himself completely ignored, a sensation to which he was most definitely unaccustomed.

Once the odious whiff of the teacher's perfume was gone, Ron, Neville and Susan went back into the corridor and helped their feline friends to their seats. Susan then waved at Neville as she walked back to the Hufflepuff table.

Somewhat disturbed at being ignored, and striving to reclaim the limelight, Professor Lockhart once again began to speak. Perhaps he'd have been taken more seriously had his robes not been a lurid hot pink.

"As I was saying, Happy Valentine's Day!" Lockhart shouted now. "Thank you to my forty-five fans who sent me cards, and I have a surprise for you all!" He clapped his hands, and a number of dwarves, about a dozen, very surly, entered through the main doors. Lockhart had them dressed in cupid outfits, complete with golden wings and harps. He must have been paying them a _lot_ of gold.

"These friendly cupids will be around for the rest of the day, carrying your loving messages direct to the object of your affections," the man in pink said. "That's not all, however, as you should ask the rest of the staff to uphold the spirit of the day! Just ask Professor Snape how to brew a Love Potion, or get Professor Flitwick to show you how an Entrancing Enchantment works!"

Looking at the dwarves over Hermione's hair, Harry thought that the dwarves were more likely to hurt you than carry a message, Snape glared like he was going to poison the first ten fools to ask for Love Potions (then he'd get creative) and poor Flitwick had his head in his hands, growling something in gobbledegook that was literally turning the air in his vicinity blue.

Struggling to think straight, he directed his attention at his fellow feline. "Hermione?" he muttered. "Do you have the diary?"

Lifting her head from his shoulder reluctantly, she looked into his emerald eyes. "Hmmmm?"

Drawn into her amber gaze, Harry struggled to keep control. "The diary? Do you have it?"

"Of course, Harrry," she almost purred, reaching into her bookbag. Her eyes flew wide open after a few seconds of searching. "No! It's gone! It was there this morning, I put it there first thing, straight out of my trunk!"

Switching to lingua_ felinarum_, Harry started muttering. _**When? It had to be while we were overwhelmed by Lockhart's perfume, but who? We won't be able to catch their scent after that stink.**_

Hermione's reply reminded Harry where they were. "English, Harry, the others can't understand you."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "_Thoughts_"; _**Lingua Felinarum**_; {_Parseltongue_}.

Chapter 6: A Primal Nature

By evening, Ron and the kitty couple were certain. Someone, who knew exactly what they'd had, had raided Hermione's bookbag while they were incapacitated by the stench of Lockhart's Valentine surprise. They had no idea who it was or why. They were almost all the way back to square one and to make matters worse, the cat children kept finding excuses to... nuzzle at each other.

When Harry was approached by one of the dwarves, his fur stood on end and he hissed, his tail flared up like a brush. His growling, and the similar sounds coming from the brown-haired cat-girl next to him, persuaded the dwarf that discretion was the better part of valour. "_It wasn't a good song, anyway,_" the messenger thought. "_I mean, fresh pickled toad? A blackboard? Who in their right mind would enjoy being compared to those?_"

* * *

At dinner, the Gryffindors all noticed their feline friends sat pressed close, almost as if they were trying to climb into each others' laps, and most were unsure if they should do something about it. Ron and the twins ran interference as much as they could, with some help from the rest of the quidditch team. Hermione glared at dessert, as if the chocolate mousse was a personal insult.

_**What's wrong? **_Harry mewled into her hair.

_**I don't know if we're enough like cats to be allergic to chocolate, **_she replied. _**It's downright annoying. I'll have to ask Madam Pomfrey.**_

The cat-boy chuckled. _**I already did. Our digestive tracts are a blend of the two, so we're OK with it.**_ So saying, he took a bowlful and passed it to his... friend? "_Would a friend be pressing so close to me? Could I feel this way if that was _all _she was?_" Harry's thoughts made him pause a moment, and Hermione wasn't the only one to notice, even if she was the first. Neville and Ron sat up a little straighter, paying attention in as casual a manner as they could, and the redhead signalled the twins.

Of course, noticing anything other than each other would have been challenging for the kitty couple at this point. Hermione had briefly wondered why she was, well, trying to climb all over Harry, but being pressed against his fur felt very good to her. She was trying to focus on the mystery of the diary, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the green-eyed cat-boy.

"Hermione," Harry murmured, knowing she could hear him, indeed would have been hard pressed not to. "What's love look like?"

The catgirl turned her head to face him. "Why do you ask, Harry?"

"Because I don't know what it's like. The Dursleys never gave me affection, so I don't know what it feels like. That photo album Hagrid gave me last year shows my mum and dad and I know they were in love, and that they loved me, or I wouldn't be here. It's just, there's knowing it, and there's feeling it. I mean, if you were looking at us right now, having just walked into the Hall, would it look like _we _were in love?" Harry gulped, at the last bit. At least their fur prevented others from seeing their blushing. "Would you like it if we were?" he whispered.

To say Hermione was surprised didn't convey the full power of the effect Harry's words had on her. She thought hard, using the discipline gained from Snape's Occlumency lessons to drag her mind back into line when it started to wander. The answer to the first question was obvious, given the way they were behaving, and as for the second, she wouldn't be doing these things if she didn't, right? Her inner cat might pop up and meow suggestions at her, but she still made her own choices, didn't she? She felt Harry tense and realised that the delay in her answer was making him nervous.

"I should hope we look like we were in love, Harry," she whispered. "I don't understand why we're behaving like this, but Dad is always touching and brushing against Mum and vice versa, whether or not they realise what they're doing. As for whether or not I'd mind, at this point I would happily climb into your lap for more snuggling and petting. I'm about a half-inch from purring right now."

She felt the tension depart, her best friend seemingly going boneless with relief. Then he surprised everyone within earshot.

"Hermione Jean Granger, would you be my girlfriend?"

Ron held out a hand to Fred, who placed a small bag of Galleons in it.

* * *

That night, Harry's dreams were filled with black fur pressed against him, with motion and stroking and purring, with warmth and heat that surrounded him and completed him, with a yowling demanding his attention, and most of all with the scent of cinnamon and chocolate, and amber eyes that he drowned in. When the yowling rose to a shrieking of his name, he started awake. He was alone in his bed, and unsure whether to be relieved or disappointed at that. He was only twelve, he should be too young for these thoughts, shouldn't he? Rising from the bed, he padded down to the common room. If he couldn't sleep, maybe he could ask a house elf for a mug of hot chocolate.

The bushy brown head of hair he saw over the back of the couch in the common room drove all thoughts of the beverage from his mind, and his ears pricked up and forward. Hermione was crying? As he quietly moved closer he could make out what she was sobbing to herself in _lingua felinum_.

_**Why'd I dream that?**_ Obviously, Harry hadn't been the only one to have an odd dream that night. _**I can't tell Harry, I don't want him to hate me, I don't know what I want or what to do...**_

_**You could just tell me**_, he whispered into her hair, and she sprang straight into the air, landing away from the couch, claws out and tail fluffed up, ready to fight, before she realised who it was, and what he'd said. _**It's not like I'd be mad at you**_. He flopped onto the couch next to where she'd been sitting, one arm across the back, inviting her to join him in every way short of saying it. Her scent was stronger than ever, and it took his full focus to act casually. A stray thought shocked him as she hesitated, one that felt like his world was falling apart.

_**You haven't … changed your mind, have you?**_ He meowed, then spoke again.

"You don't regret letting me be your boyfriend, do you?" He switched back to English for the last question, although he whispered it, as _lingua felinarum_ just didn't have the words for regret (cats regret nothing, as McGonagall had said) and the closest it got to boyfriend was mate, which carried a far more... significant commitment. Although, truth to tell, after that dream he'd had perhaps it was the right word... Harry shook his head, flapping his ears until _that_ thought left his mind. Hermione jumped to a different, but probably still accurate, conclusion: that Harry was shaking to rid himself of the idea of her rejection.

"No, Harry!" she hissed at him. "I won't regret it. Never. It's just, should I be feeling like this? I mean, I just had a dream, and it made me... feel _really_ good, and I thought it felt _too_ good, you know?" She had relaxed from her wary stance, and curled up next to him, pressing her nose into the fur on his neck. "We're only kids," she whispered. "I don't want to have to... grow up like that yet. I want to go slow, but the cat inside me is pushing for everything _right now_."

Harry fought with his own feline instincts, which were screaming at him to claim her, to take her, to make her his in the most primal fashion. "So we... go slow. We... don't rush. If I have to fight a raging wildcat every day just to be close to you, I will. Even if the wildcat in question _is_ me."

* * *

Tearing themselves away from each other had very nearly been painful. They were struggling against their instincts all the way, and had no idea how they'd have gotten through the next few days without the help of their friends. Ron distracted them by getting them to focus on the riddle of, well, Riddle. This by the simple expedient of dragging them down to the trophy case and pointing out the Award for Special Services to the school with the name Tom Marvolo Riddle on it. As the two cat children were desperate for anything to distract themselves from each other, they were caught up in the mystery willingly. Hermione and Neville went to the library to look through the records to see why the trophy had been awarded, she to do the requisite research, and he to keep people back from her while she did. The new Hermione was currently a little touchy...

Ron caught Harry up in a game of Wizard's Chess in the Great Hall. The game was going in Ron's favour, despite spotting Harry his queen and both knights. "I wish I could explain it, Harry. It's like I just _see_ every move that comes from what I'm about to do, and then every move from that, all the way to endgame. It's what I'm good at, but I can't see what help it's going to be in the future."

Harry grunted, batting one of Ron's rooks back and forth between his hands. It was one of only three pieces he'd managed to take from Ron. He reached out to lay down his king. "Can't concentrate on this, sorry Ron. It's not the game, or the company, it's just..."

Ron grinned at his furry friend. "Just that I'm not your 'Her-my-honey', I know. Neville says you've been talking in your sleep. Most of it's in that linguini-vellum or whatever, but that phrase came through loud and clear." Ron shook his head. "I don't understand it, but it's like you're both older than me now."

Neville and Hemione entered the Hall and crossed to where Harry and Ron sat. Before anything else, the catgirl climbed onto her boyfriend's lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him close. A hug he was quick to return. After a few moments of nuzzling and purring, she pulled back and took a seat beside him. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said softly. "We found the information. According to the records, Tom Marvolo Riddle received his award for catching the culprit the last time the chamber was opened, fifty years ago." She took a deep breath. "The person he caught was Hagrid, Harry."

Harry slumped in place for a moment. Suddenly he straightened. "Hang on," he said. "Isn't it odd that the last time Riddle was at school, the Chamber was opened, and now that his diary's here, it opens _again_? _If_ it was Hagrid," he raised a hand, forestalling Hermione's protests, "then he's had fifty years where he could have reopened it, and you know how he is about creatures, he knows enough that he could teach about it, but he'd have been giving whatever it was a silly name and letting slip he had it in hundreds of little ways."

Hermione hugged him hard. "Thanks, Harry," she whispered, purring in relief. "I was sure something was wrong but I couldn't see what."

Ron was deep in thought, not beyond noticing the kitty couple, but becoming used to it. Hermione was good at research and Harry could spot little flaws like no one else. The redhead scrawled Riddle's full name on apiece of parchment. "Do you think he knew V-voldemort?" he asked, idly crossing out the letters for that name, and glancing at what was left. M-A-L-O-R-I-D. "Oh, bugger," he muttered. Neville was close enough to hear him, and the other two could have heard him from a great deal further away than they were.

Rearranging the letters in Riddle's name, Ron turned to his friends. "Riddle doesn't just know him," he said his face turning white, "he is him."

There on the parchment was written Tom Marvolo Riddle, each letter with a line scratched through it. Beneath it Ron has written the phrase he'd spotted. **I am Lord Voldemort.**

Amber eyes locked with emerald as Harry muttered. "I hate being right."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "_Thoughts_"; _**Lingua Felinarum**_; {_Parseltongue_}.

Chapter 7: Nine-tenths of the Lore

Harry woke the next morning and stretched. It had been five long days and nights that he'd been having _those _dreams. Rubbing at his ears, he turned to put his feet on the floor, sweeping his tail out from under the covers. The same covers which bunched and balled up as the person under them muttered "co-old," and went back to sleep.

The catboy froze. Carefully, he turned little by little, dreading what he was about to see, but at the same time wanting very much to see it. The blend of his own scent with the heady cinnamon and chocolate of Hermione, along with a rather heady, musky odour hung in the bed within his curtains. If he'd still been human, he wouldn't have noticed. Finally turning far enough to look at the lump in his sheets and blankets, he could see a very familiar black-furred tail, twitching back and forth as its owner lightly purred beneath the covers.

"_Oh, crap,_" Harry thought, frantically trying to remember what had happened. After the shock of Ron's revelation, and mourning the fact that vital evidence of Riddle's misdeeds had escaped them, the young Gryffindors had returned to their common room, and then to bed. Harry remembered having that dream again, but there was a difference. A sense of... release? Was that the right word? The sense of belonging afterwards, and the dream fading into shadows. "_What am I going to do if that actually happened?_" Now that he thought about it, certain parts of him _were_ tingling with a not-unpleasant sensation.

The whole argument within himself became moot when Hermione awoke, and paused mid-stretch. "This isn't my bed." She found herself wondering if that was good or bad. The bed smelled safe, and she turned slowly. Amber met emerald, and neither could look away. She realised she had nothing on, and wasn't bothered. Then she noticed Harry was wearing as much and found that thought much harder to dismiss. Turning her attention inward, she found no vast urge to get so close to him that they would almost be one.

She remembered vaguely being unable to sleep, and deciding to walk it out, then Harry's scent, and that was it. "_Did my instincts take over? If they did, do I mind? Am I still purring?_"

Leaning forward, Hermione nuzzled Harry's neck, and bit him there lightly, growling softly. _**My Harrrry, mmmine. **_Yes, she was still purring, but now he was too.

_**Yesss**_, he replied, and she wasn't the only one purring anymore. _**All yourrrs, Herrr-mmmy-honey kitten, all yourrrs. **_Hearing his pet name for her for the first time made her stop purring for a moment, then resume with double the purr. "However," he whispered, "now we have to get you back to your bed. You can use my cloak if you want, but I think you better collect your nightclothes first."

* * *

Between Harry's cloak and the pads on her feet, Hermione avoided detection on her way back to her room. As she was passing the first-years' room, she heard one of the poor things muttering in her sleep. Not that the catgirl could make out anything through the closed door, except for the occasional "no" or "don't", but it seemed that whoever it was was having a nightmare. As she turned away, she heard the one word that froze her in her tracks, someone's name: "Tom."

Cracking open the first-year girls' door, she looked for the girl who was having the dream. Hermione was surprised to see that the girl wasn't asleep. Instead she was sitting at a desk with a diary open in front of her, writing. She hissed for awhile, not unlike when Harry spoke to the snake at the duelling club, and then answered herself in a low mutter that Hermione had trouble making out. As the catgirl opened the door a little further, the redhead sitting at the desk spun about, knocking the chair to the floor, wand in hand. As the other girls in the room began to wake up at the noise, she hurriedly stuffed the diary into her trunk.

Hermione stepped back and continued on to her bed. It had to be a trick of the light. The girl, Ginevra Weasly if she was remembering correctly, Ron's little sister, _couldn't _have had glowing red eyes. Could she?

The students at Hogwarts were busy that Easter, reading up on possible career paths and what classes they needed to take for them. Hermione wanted to take all of them. Harry managed to talk her down, by virtue of promising to take the same classes as she did.

"Divination is a dodgy thing at best, and Muggle Studies is redundant," he told her. "You could probably _teach_ that yourself. I'm with you for the rest, though. Care of Magical Creatures, almost essential for us, Arithmancy, sounds like magical math and Ancient Runes."

Ron opened his mouth and closed it before making comments he knew he'd regret. If he'd actually said what had been on the tip of his tongue, he was certain there would have been an argument, if not a full-blown fight. They'd already had one of those this week, thank you.

Hermione had shared with he and Harry what had happened the morning after his solving the, ahem, riddle of Voldemort. Of course, to do that, she had to share _why_ she came to be in that place, at that time and under her boyfriend's invisibility cloak. She had her eyes downcast as she whispered this, in a classroom that was empty but for the three of them. Ron had trouble believing her. Not what she'd done, that was par for the course as far as he was concerned: The Potter House motto was 'Nos non facimus normalis'*, wasn't it? No Ron had trouble believing his little sister could be the 'Heir of Slytherin'. First, she was a Weasly, and could trace her family's lines back before the founder's time, and second, her behaviour didn't match her normal pattern, as far as he could remember. "It just doesn't sound like her. What could change her behaviour like this?"

"There's loads of things, Ron," Hermione replied. "Imperius Curse, Compulsion Charm, even a badly applied Memory Charm could do it. The telling point is that none of these things cause the victim's eyes to change. The red glow is a tell-tale sign of..." here, the catgirl swallowed, "possession. And to make it worse, on some level, she has to surrender to the possessing spirit, or it shreds her own soul to make way for its own."

"So how do we end it?" Even transformed, Harry still had that 'saving people thing'. Hermione wouldn't have changed that for the world. "How can we save Ron's sister from this, this... _violation_?!" The last word was hissed, and at first sounded like he was trying to speak both _lingua felinarum_ and _parseltongue_ at the same time. He'd actually done that once, when his best feline friend had sneaked up on him while he was talking to Ron, and gotten a little payback for the times when _he'd _startled _her_.

Glancing down at the open pages of the book in her hands, Hermione replied. "It's not going to be easy. First we have to find out if the possession is a result of a free-floating spirit, or a bound one. Free-floating spirits, or spectres, once they have possession require extreme measures to remove. Bound spirits are easier, by destroying their anchor you destroy the spirit. That's all it says here, and it's about a tenth of the information we need." Looking up at the boys who were her friends apologetically, the feline girl went on. "This was the only book I could get to outside of the restricted section that had anything on the subject. I even waded through Lockhart's claptrap." Here she shuddered. Harry reached out and patted her shoulder in sympathy. "Not only was that a waste of time, he's claiming a time scale that would put him at five different places in the world _at the same time_! And the spells he claims to use,urgh, either don't exist or just don't do what he says they do. Remember the pixies?" Everyone nodded.

"Anyway, he's useless, we get it," Ron said. "So we've got to find out why she's like this. I doubt asking will work... wait, did you say she was writing in a diary?"

_**Oooh, noooo! **_Hermione yowled at the ceiling. She spent the next few minutes swearing in the feline language. Although Harry was the only one who could understand what she said in that manner, the tone was more than enough to get the point across.

* * *

"So, how go their lessons, Severus," Dumbledore asked of the potions master in his office. "Can they block their minds properly yet?"

Just the thought of trying to delve into the cat children's' minds started a vein on Snape's forehead throbbing. "They have developed mindscapes, detailed ones, with various feline predators and magical creatures to harry intruders, but they don't seem to have organised them well. A jungle of sorts in both cases, with ancient ruins half buried by the wilderness. I'd say they've been reading too many Tarzan stories. Or Kipling, but there's no such thing as too much Kipling."

McGonagall idly wondered how someone kippled. "They're fully comfortable with there new bodies, Albus, in case you were wondering," she reported before the old wizard could ask. "I believe they could hold their own in a fight on instinct alone, but that's not going to be enough. You're going to need someone to teach them better than I." She drew in a deep breath. No-one was going to like this bit. "Poppy has said they are _fully _active, and she supplied Miss Granger with the proper... precautions."

"On that note," interrupted Snape, "we were lucky, in a way. Had the hair Harry dropped into his flask been from the same cat as Miss Granger's, we would have two highly territorial catgirls fighting it out. I have traced the signatures of the creatures involved. Fortunately, Miss Bulstrode's cat was... friendly with one belonging to a fifth year. Expect kittens."

*(Latin: We don't do normal).


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "_Thoughts_"; _**Lingua Felinarum**_; {_Parseltongue_}.

Hi, out there. Sorry it's taken so long to get this one out of my brain and into the data-stream. As the press of events in the A&E universe takes it further from the original, it takes more creativity on my part to figure out what happens next. Creativity takes time. On top of that I spotted my own continuity error, which I have remedied: Justin Finch-Fletchley could not be in the Herbology class I mentioned in Chapter 4, as he'd already been petrified before the Polyjuice mishap. Thanks for your patience, and on with the story...

Chapter 8: Size Matters

Harry would have helped Hermione in the library a lot more, but Quidditch practices interfered. The weather was gradually improving, and the 'wet cat' jokes tended to fade rapidly into the background when the catboy glared in their direction, especially when the first few times had him shake his fur vigorously near the source. Draco had it occur no less than five times before finally getting the hint. Crabbe and Goyle proved smarter than they looked (not that _that_ was difficult) by refusing to come within ten feet of Harry after the first time. Ron actually lost money on that one, and a tiny blonde Ravenclaw won it all.

The Saturday of the Quidditch match itself was clear and sunny. As Wood stated loudly, perfect weather for the game. Harry was just glad he wasn't going to get excessively wet. It made his fur itch, and the glamours in his collars would only make the sensation worse in very short order. Draco had complained loudly that Harry now had an 'unfair' advantage, trying to get him suspended from playing, but for some reason didn't elaborate on exactly what his 'advantage' was.

As the three friends were leaving the Great Hall to get Harry's things for the match, he heard it.

{_Let me kill this time... let me rip... tear..._} The hissing voice faded into the distance, accompanied by a strange, rhythmic scraping sound, as Harry yowled in surprise, and Ron and Hermione also jumped, but more in reaction to him than the mysterious voice.

"The voice," he said quickly as Ron turned a questioning look on his friend. "I just heard it again, didn't you?"

As Ron shook his head, Hermione gasped. "Harry- I think I just understood something! I need to check the library, I'll be right back!" With that, she turned to leave.

Harry didn't know why he dropped his broom until he was in the air, tackling his girlfriend to the ground. _**Her-my-honey, no! Bad kitty! **_He'd twisted as they landed, taking the impact of their fall, and looked down at the catgirl in his arms. "You're supposed to be the brightest witch of our generation, love," he murmured into her hair. "How bright is it to wander around in the castle, _alone_, when I've just heard the monster wandering loose? No, I'm coming with you."

Ron was torn. On the one hand, his friend was right, he couldn't just let Hermione walk blindly into danger. On the other... the Quidditch Cup. "Harry..." he began, "are you sure? You'll be practically giving the Hufflepuffs the match, and probably the Cup..."

Harry's response cut all argument off at the knees. His fur all fluffed out, making him seem twice the size, and his emerald eyes slitted down till they were almost pure green as he hissed, cat-like at his red-haired friend. "No, Ron, I do _not_ consider some piece of gaud and glory more important than the well-being of my _mate_!"

Silence. Hermione was perfectly still in his arms, and Ron was somewhat gobsmacked at the intensity of Harry's reply. The basic content, he'd been ready for, but not for it being delivered so... vehemently. Then the catgirl whispered into the chest of her boyfriend. Somehow, Ron and Neville, who'd just rounded the corner, were able to hear her perfectly.

"Do you mean that, Harry? Is that, am I, what you really want? Or are you just making the best of being forced into this by my... um... pheromones and hormones? I don't want you to regret this years from now, Harry?" She held her breath, waiting for his reply with anticipation and fear.

He paused and thought hard. He hadn't meant to say that, it was a Hagrid-worthy slip of the tongue. A sense of foreboding and terror had jumped up from the depths of his mind and blind-sided every ounce of self-control he possessed. He'd been reacting on pure instinct and emotion, and that argued for the feelings and words being more true than any he'd yet spoken.

He brought his muzzle down to her hair and gently licked at the tip of her ear. As she started purring, he answered her aloud. "If love were distance, the universe isn't big enough; if love were time, eternity's not long enough. I don't know why I feel this way, maybe it _is _because we're largely cats now, but I will _never_ regret being yours, if you'll have me."

Ron and Neville looked at each other, and decided to head down to the Quidditch pitch to let them know that the Gryffindor seeker might be a bit late.

* * *

The kitty couple weren't the only ones in the library, as they met Susan Bones and one of the Ravenclaw prefects, a girl called Penelope Clearwater, there. Harry and Hermione began searching books frantically, he having been informed of Hermione's suspicions on the way to the library.

"It's _got_ to be some kind of snake," she'd told him, " so all we need to do is find out what kind it is, and that should tell us our next move. Once the monster is out of the way, we can concentrate on freeing Ginny from that diary of Riddle's."

It didn't take long to find the information in the pages of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. "It's a basilisk," Harry said in a flat tone that caught the attention of the other two students in the library. "A freaking basilisk."

"Then why isn't anyone dead?" Susan asked, terrified by the thought. "Those things are incredibly venomous, and looking in their eyes kills you."

The Ravenclaw prefect chimed in. "That's not even considering their innate size and strength. Basilisks are big, the older they are the bigger they get."

"This one was sealed in by Slytherin himself, so it's what, a thousand years old. How big would that be?" Hermione turned to Penelope, only to find empty air. Looking down, she saw why. Upon hearing the monster's age, the Ravenclaw had fainted. While Susan hadn't, the Hufflepuff redhead was decidedly paler than usual.

"That's got to be... around sixty feet long..." her voice trailed off.

Harry mewled in realisation. "No-one's dead because no-one's looked it in the eyes. There's always been something in the way, Colin's camera, or Nearly-Headless Nick for Justin, Nick couldn't die, he was dead already."

"Mrs Norris?"

Hermione spotted that one. "Harry, didn't you say there was water all over the floor?" At his nod she went on. "She must have seen the basilisk's reflection. So, how to stop it..."

Harry snorted. "Mirrors to look around corners, so even if you do see it, you're just petrified. That's a start."

Susan fumbled a mirror from her pocket. "This isn't much, but would it help?"

Hermione nodded. "It's more than I had. Now let's see... Spiders flee before it, and the crow of a rooster can kill it... that's why Hagrid's chickens were killed. With all of them dead, no-one realised that they were after the roosters... what else? Huh... that's interesting."

She had Susan and Harry's full attention now, and Penelope was coming around. "What's interesting?" they chorused.

"The damned thing is terrified by weasels. The weasel is the only creature in the world immune to a basilisk's gaze and venom."

* * *

Luckily, Penelope had another mirror, and so prepared they left the library, carefully making their way towards the only place they _knew_ they'd find teachers, the Quidditch pitch. It was as they were traversing the corridor near Myrtle's bathroom that Harry and Hermione heard a soft 'eep' behind them, along with the scraping sound of scales on stone.

{_Bahh... gone to stone, no tassste... can't bite... smell cats... tear cats?..._} Harry swallowed as he and his girlfriend both closed their eyes tight. Thanks to Professor McGonagall's lessons, they knew how a cat's whiskers allowed them to navigate without seeing. Somewhere behind them, and not too far at that, was the basilisk. Then the bottoms dropped out of their stomachs, or at least it felt that way.

Ginny's voice hissed out. {_Yesss... ssslay the female... I have plansss for the other._}

The two cat children broke into a flat sprint from a standing start, heading for the staircases. The basilisk shouldn't be able to easily navigate those, especially since neither Harry nor Hermione had any intention of descending them sedately. As their whiskers told them they'd reached the open area around the stairs, they threw themselves over the railings, aiming for where they remembered the first floor landing to be.

Just as well that they had, for the basilisk's head struck the _second_ floor landing, breaking and shattering wood and stone. As the couple twisted and plummeted, they heard an extended hiss of pain, almost deafening.

{_My eye... gone... hurtsss..._} The feline students were distracted by their landing. Hitting their target feet-first, they collapsed and rolled and tumbled to a stop. Against a pair of feet in severe-looking boots, in fact, as they opened their eyes a little. Enough to see that they very nearly run right into Professor McGonagall, whose right foot was tapping against the floor with impatience. Outside they could hear cheering from the Hufflepuffs who had just won the match.

"I believe I would appreciate an explanation, Mr Potter."


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "_Thoughts_"; _**Lingua Felinarum**_; {_Parseltongue_}.

Chapter 9: A Close Call

Hermione clung to Harry's hand tightly as they sat in McGonagall's office, waiting for her return. After ushering the feline couple inside, the Transfiguration professor had left them there as she gathered information on what precisely had happened. Harry pushed his chair as close to his mate's as he could manage, and the two of them began a whispered conversation.

"How did you know when to bolt, Hermione?" he asked. "I knew because I could understand parseltongue, but you ran at the exact moment I did. Why?"

Her first thought was to say because he had, but upon closer examination, he was right. There _should _have been a moment or two between his reaction and hers, if that were so. Struggling to remember the exact sequence of events without the adrenaline of the chase affecting her wasn't an easy task.

Then she recalled exactly why she had run. Her eyes widened in shock. "No... It can't be... it's impossible..." she stuttered.

Harry stood and took her in his arms. At most the felines had a few more minutes of privacy before McGonagall's return. "That just means no-one's done it yet, Her-my-honey," he said. "So what was it?"

Hermione looked up at her mate, and as amber met emerald, she hissed. {_Because _I_ could understand what she was saying, too._} The bushy-haired witch began to shake and tremble with fear. "What does this mean, Harry? How could _I_ become a parselmouth? It's something you have to be born with, isn't it?"

The two feline children started, jumping at least three feet (or so it felt) when Professor McGonagall's voice spoke behind them. "Apparently not, Miss Granger. Now if you and Mr Potter can tell me exactly what happened to petrify Miss Clearwater and Miss Bones?"

* * *

The full account of events took about twenty minutes to explain, with the transfiguration teacher silent through most of it. At several points, she had asked questions for clarification. After the two had finished, McGonagall stood. "Follow me, you two," she said. "We're going to need to share this with Professor Dumbledore."

As the elderly witch led them through the corridors, the kitty couple clung together. They felt unprepared for the changes that were swiftly overtaking them. Harry could almost feel his mate's fear and anxiety as if it were his own. Both of their tails were lashing about, betraying their agitated state to anyone who knew enough about cats.

Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape were not among the group of teachers gathered at the scene of the petrification of Susan and Penelope, but Dumbledore, Flitwick and Sprout were. As McGonagall brought her charges forward, there was the sound of a man hurrying along the stone floors, and both cat children laid their ears flat back as the cloying stench of his 'cologne' hit them, seconds before Lockhart himself rounded the corner.

Before the DADA professor could start boasting and claiming glory, McGonagall spoke up.

"Albus, I believe you need to hear the story these two have to tell." Her stern voice easily overpowered Lockhart's attempts to be heard. Once again, Harry and Hermione went into their story, although they left out the part about the parseltongue ability Hermione had acquired. They had decided, with McGonagall's support, that this was a piece of information to impart _only_ to a trusted few, in a truly private space. A second floor corridor didn't seem like the time or place.

At the mention of a basilisk, Lockhart had started bragging that it wouldn't be hard to beat. On hearing that all the roosters had been killed, he went pale. When he found out how big it was he passed out. Flitwick nudged the man with a shoe. "I thought he was supposed to be a Gryffindor?"

"He was," agreed McGonagall. "He didn't have the brains and talent for Ravenclaw, the work ethic for Hufflepuff, or the cunning for Slytherin. His greatest quality was a reckless desire for glory... We really need a minimum cut-off for these things in the Hat."

By the time the feline friends had finished, Filch had arrived with news. "Sorry, Headmaster," he grumbled. Argus Filch couldn't do anything in any other way, it seemed. "The head of the DMLE is in the hospital wing, waiting for an explanation, sir."

* * *

The square-jawed witch stood by her niece's bed, looking down into the surprised expression on her face. Her steel-grey eyes then ranged over the apologetic man in front of her, and the two cat-people with him, weighing and measuring. She'd spotted the glamours the second Harry Potter and Hermione Granger had entered the room, and asked them to be removed. Once they had, she had listened to their story of the events that had led to the current situation.

Harry was very worried. Amelia Bones was an intimidating presence, especially when she was angry. Right now, he was very glad that he and Hermione weren't the targets of said anger.

"So," she said in a voice that exhibited both the rage she was barely holding back and the steely will that was doing so. "A spirit bound to a diary possessed a student and caused them to open the Chamber of Secrets so the creature inside, a basilisk, would attack the students, of whom none have been killed by a series of unlikely circumstances. Am I right so far?" Dumbledore nodded. "Were their guardians notified?"

"I tried," the headmaster answered. "I managed to contact the Grangers about their daughter's transformation, now they're seriously considering finding an alternative establishment for her education, but any attempts to notify parents or guardians about this crisis have been blocked by the Board of Governors and the Ministry, on the grounds of Statute of Secrecy article 34, subsection C." The normally calm wizard was a half-inch from spitting.

The painting beside the door was suddenly filled by a short man in armour. "Headmaster, Lucius Malfoy is on his way! He's got some official-looking documents in his hands as well, at least three different ones."

"I thought I would have more time," mused Dumbledore.

"Why?" asked Madam Bones. "What's Malfoy up to?"

"I suspect he has the papers to suspend me as headmaster, but I have no idea what the others might be."

* * *

Lucius Malfoy swept into the hospital wing. There had been plenty of time for Harry and Hermione to activate their glamours and take seats by Susan's bed. Madam Bones had chosen to remain standing, on the opposite side of the bed. The arrogant blonde wizard strode up to Dumbledore, with an auror behind him, and held out all three parchments.

"Dumbledore," he sneered, "I find myself the bearer of g- bad news. You are to be removed as the headmaster of Hogwarts, by order of the Board of Governors. Further, you are hereby replaced by Professor Severus Snape, again by order of the Board. Finally, as Head of the House of Malfoy, I have been authorised to take into possession all dangerous magical creatures found within these walls. _Aboleo!_" The last word was spat in the direction of the kitty couple as the magic in their collars was abolished. "Take the monsters into custody, Auror Dawlish."

As the grim-looking auror stepped forwards, the square-jawed witch behind the bed made a decision. Malfoy had escaped Azkaban and punishment by a combination of the 'Imperius Defence', as it had come to be called when one of Voldemort's cronies wanted to claim they'd been subject to the infamous Unforgivable curse, and large donations to several 'charitable organizations'. Strange that no-one ever found out exactly which charities were so endowed.

"Stand down, Dawlish." Her voice of steel and fire had finally found an outlet, and Harry, for one, was very glad it wasn't aimed at him. "Although I don't know much about Hogwarts, I do know a few things about the law. Malfoy, do you bleach your brains along with your hair? The authority you just attempted to claim has to come past the head of the Department of Magical Creatures _and_ the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It didn't. On top of that the Decree for Magical Equality of 1897 specifically exempts sentient creatures that can communicate from such claims. So that third parchment is worth exactly nothing. I should let you try to serve it though. Tell you what, I'll keep an eye on these two creatures while you and Auror Dawlish go capture the sixty-foot basilisk that's been attacking the students, how does that sound?"

Malfoy somehow managed to go even paler than he already was, and the auror fainted. "S-sixty-f-foot b-basilisk?" Lucius managed to stutter out, taking a firm grip on his fear. "Surely you jest, the largest basilisk on record was twenty-five feet."

"And that one took fifty aurors three hours to defeat, by the end of which there were only ten. Then again, I'm _sure_ you and Auror Dawlish can compensate, somehow. As for the rest of it, I'm not joking. Professor Dumbledore himself saw and heard the evidence, including what Professor Snape assures me is basilisk blood and, what else was it, optical fluid?" The head of the DMLE watched as Malfoy began to hyperventilate. "Would you still like to enforce that piece of parchment?"

"I... In light of this information... perhaps I was a little hasty." Each word from Malfoy was almost dragged out unwillingly. "However, on the other two matters, I shall brook no interference. I know the regulations as laid down by the Board."

"Then I believe I shall decline the post, Lucius," said Professor Snape, as he emerged from Madam Pomfrey's office. "I appreciate the vote of confidence, but not even I can take on a millennial basilisk. You'd do as well to ask Potter here to face a Hungarian Horntail."

"So who should be placed in charge? This man can't even protect the mud- muggleborn students from this alleged basilisk. I'm acting to protect our pureblood children before the creature gets to them." Malfoy stepped back with a sneer on his face.

He really wasn't expecting an attack, but he'd made sure to protect himself against most basic offensive spells. Amelia Bones didn't think to use one. There was a sickening crack as she drove her fist into the arrogant blonde's jaw. As the man went down like a pole-axed cow, she gathered in her rage.

"THEN WHY IS MY NIECE IN THAT BED YOU POMPOUS, PEA-BRAINED, SELF-ABSORBED ESCAPEE FROM …." The rant was just as impressive for being cut off at that point as for the vitriol and vocabulary inherent within it.

"Excuse me," asked Dumbledore in the following silence, "but has any one seen Mr Potter or Miss Granger?"

Sure enough, when they looked towards where the felines had been sitting, there was no trace of the couple.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "_Thoughts_"; _**Lingua Felinarum**_; {_Parseltongue_}.

Chapter 10: Deeper and Deeper

Harry and Hermione shrugged off the invisibility cloak in the hallway where Ron was waiting for them. He had looked very scared, terrified would not have been too strong a word, and his gestures were frantic as he waved them to follow him from the hospital wing doorway. Now he was pacing back and forth in a fit of nervous tension, literally unable to remain still. As they appeared, he looked in their direction with panic on his face.

"Guys, she's gone, she never came back to the dorms, no-one's seen her since breakfast and I can't find her anywhere!" The feline couple were certain Ron hadn't paused for breath once.

"Slow down, mate," Harry said. "Who are you talking about?" He had a sinking feeling that he knew, and the look on Hermione's face showed she had identical suspicions.

"Ginny, of course!" Ron confirmed. "I know she's been possessed by that Riddle's diary, but she's my sister, I can't just leave her like that."

Amber eyes met emerald as the feline friends conferred. _**He's right**__, _mewled Harry._**No-one deserves that... thing in their heads.**_ _**We have to do something. If we get one of the teachers to help us...**_

_**If we set foot in the hospital wing right now, that Malfoy man would probably curse us to keep the 'dangerous creatures' from wreaking havoc, **_Hermione yowled with bitterness deep in every word. _**So we need a teacher who isn't in there... Oh, no. **_Turning to her mate, she murmured apologetically. _**I'm sorry, Harry. We're going to need the stinky-man, urgh.**_

Harry winced. He loathed Lockhart's 'cologne', _and_ the man under it. Seeing Ron watching their conversation with an odd look, he waved their red-haired friend over. "Don't worry, we're going to save her, and we have to plan this out. We're going to need you to keep an eye on the Professor Stenchmeister, since we can't get close..."

As Ron started running possible plans through his head, he felt a throbbing begin in his right temple. "There's too many unknowns, Harry. I can't play a game I don't know the rules for."

"There aren't any, Ron." Hermione's voice was a soft growl. "Daddy spent some time in the SAS, and he said that one thing that you _knew_ was that no battle plan survives contact with the enemy."

Harry's green eyes narrowed to slits. "As far as Riddle's concerned, aren't _we_ the enemy?"

Looking at the feral grins on his feline friends' faces, making them more closely resemble hunting panthers than domestic cats, Ron was _very_ happy he wasn't Riddle.

* * *

Gilderoy Lockhart opened his eyes to the sight of a wand aimed directly at the tip of his nose by a determined looking red-haired boy. Carefully looking around, he saw the two feline students inspecting the scene of the basilisk's wounding. He began to stand, smiling condescendingly at the boy in front of him.

"I wouldn't make a sudden move if I were you," Ron said, as if discussing the weather. There wasn't a hint of the fear and panic and worry that coursed through him in his voice. He gestured to one side of the corridor with his badly repaired wand. "I'm not entirely sure what would happen to you."

"Are you really threatening a teacher, young man?" Lockhart attempted to turn on the charm. "That's just not on, you know. Tell you what, if you hand over your wand, you can get out of this with just a detention. Can't say fairer than that, what?"

"You passed out at the merest mention of a basilisk," Ron replied, "and the other teachers left you here. I don't think they have the highest opinion of you right now. Now, we need a teacher to help us here, and you just got volunteered. Since you _are_ the DADA professor, I'd think it well within your job description to help stop this basilisk, don't you."

"Ahh... yes... regrettable, you see, I recently received a summons to..." Lockhart hurriedly searched his mind for somewhere far from Hogwarts, "Upper Antarctica, some snow wurm marauding among a village of ..."

"Of what?" Hermione's voice cut into Lockhart's speech. "Penguins? You are a coward, sir. There is a girl's life and soul at stake, and you wish to run and hide? Pathetic."

Harry grinned, both at his mate's taunting of the 'cologne' doused git, and for a more practical reason. "I found the trail, guys," he called out. "It goes into the bathroom up ahead."

The female feline flattened her ears in disbelief. "You mean the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom."

"Ha! I knew it!" exclaimed Lockhart.

Ron glanced at his friends. "Do we really need him?"

Hermione pulled a piece of parchment with spell instructions on it from her pocket. "Yes, Ron. Now let me see, wand motion thus... " Her voice trailed off into a soft murmur as she practised the gesture. Together, the friends prodded the reluctant professor into the abandoned bathroom.

"Oh, it's you again," said Myrtle, "are you still a cat? Oh, hello Harry, you're a cat, too, now? It must be a new fashion." The ghostly teenager giggled. As Harry began searching the room, Hermione turned to her.

"Myrtle," she asked. "How did you die? If that's not rude or something, of course."

"Oh, no," Myrtle answered, "it's just that you're the first person to ask. I was sitting in my stall, crying because of something Olive Hornby said, when I heard a_ boy_. I opened the door to give him a piece of my mind, and I saw these two big yellow lights, and I died."

"Where did you see them?" called Harry.

Myrtle pointed, and the catboy hurried over to the indicated sink. Sure enough, engraved into the tap was a hidden serpent.

"Did you hear what the boy said?" Hermione asked. The ghost shook her head.

"I heard him, but all he was doing was hissing."

"Hang on a second," Harry said. {_Open up_} he hissed at the tap.

The sink started to move forwards, revealing a tunnel that lead down into the very bowels of the school. The shaft was slick and slimy, and descended at a most precipitous angle.

Lockhart turned for the door with a hurried "Well, since you don't need me anymore..." His voice trailed off as Ron's wand pointed unwaveringly at certain parts of the 'teacher' that he would be hard put to replace.

"My sister is down there somewhere. We're going to save her. You're going first. And look at the bright side: now you can be famous for something you actually did." Ron gave the panicked professor a hard shove, and Lockhart stumbled across the floor and fell down the shaft.

His high-pitched scream on the way down was most satisfying.

* * *

As Ron picked himself up at the end of his slide down the pipe, he glared at his feline friends, who had reached the bottom of the shaft both pristine and upright.

Harry chuckled. "Sorry, mate, but we're cats. Always land on our feet and not a hair out of place, either." He cautiously moved forwards, Hermione right behind him. Lockhart, they simply stepped over, as the man had apparently fainted. Again. The floor here was littered with dirt and water, as well as numerous animal bones, mostly small ones, such as from rats. The whole area smelled strongly enough of snake that the cat children were unable to scent Lockhart, which they counted a good thing. Against the far wall, they saw it. At first glance they thought it was the king serpent itself, but the vivid, poisonous green belonged to a shed skin... one that bore out their estimate of the basilisk's size.

_**I knew it was big**_, Harry mewled quietly,_** but it didn't hit me until now just how big the thing is.**_

Hermione nodded, and turned her attention to the wall itself, where two stone snakes of vast size were set. The carvings were disturbingly life-like, and it didn't take much to imagine them slithering from the wall.

As Ron prodded the reluctant Lockhart into wakefulness, the feline couple turned to the statues and hissed as one. {_Open._}

With a grinding of stone and metal, the wall between the snakes retreated to reveal the passage into the Chamber of Secrets.

As it did, Lockhart moved. While the three children were distracted by the door, he grabbed Ron's wand. "_These brats aren't worth a monologue,"_ he thought, bringing the wand to bear as he yelled "Obliviate". He missed Ron completely, as the redhead stumbled to one side after losing his wand, and the feline couple dived into the passage behind the snakeskin. The same snakeskin Lockhart's spell bounced off. Then the spellotape gave way, and the energies within the wand cascaded outwards... all over Lockhart. The explosion had the secondary effect of bringing down a large chunk of ceiling, blocking Harry and Hermione inside the chamber.

Ron struggled to his feet, and looked at the pile of rock where the chamber entrance was. He hurried over to it, heedless of the bones that were crunching underfoot. "Harry! Hermione! Are you guys alright?!" he yelled.

The reply was muffled, but it was definitely Hermione who answered him. "We're fine, Ron. Harry's a bit busy swearing in Felinarum, right now. I don't think we're moving this any time soon. Mongrel Lockhart ruined my plan. I was _going _to transfigure him into a rooster, but we're going to have to improvise, now."

The aforementioned mongrel sat up, causing Ron to spin around, a rock raised in his hand. "Ah. Hello. Who might you be?"

"I'm Ron," the red-haired boy replied, warily. The rock may not be a wand, but it was inarguably better than nothing.

"How wonderful," Lockhart said. "Now for the tricky one. Who am I?"

For a few moments, Ron was flabbergasted. Then he brought the rock around to meet the side of the man's face hard as a bludger. Lockhart went down without a whimper.

"Guys!" the redhead yelled through the rock pile. "Lockhart just brain-wiped himself. Useless git. I'm going to try and clear these rocks. You two go ahead, and please," he almost choked on the sob in his voice, "save Ginny. She's my only sister."

"We will," Harry swore. With that the two cat children hurried through the tunnel, into the Chamber of Secrets.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "_Thoughts_"; _**Lingua Felinarum**_; {_Parseltongue_}.

Chapter 11: Challenge in the Chamber

The Chamber's entryway was a long, dank tunnel, lit fitfully with an eldritch green luminescence. The walls were lined with carvings of snakes and serpents similar to the ones upon the wall outside. To the feline couple, it might as well have been full noon, as their cat-like eyes easily adjusted. Slipping off their footwear they moved cautiously and silently on.

The Chamber itself was a massive vaulted room, a dome in layout, although the ceiling was lost in the darkness high above. About the circular wall were several statues in which snakes featured prominently. Almost a third of the floorspace was taken up by a shallow pool, no more than waist-deep on a grown man, and across the pool was the largest statue, a bust of Salazar Slytherin himself, most likely. No other carving in the entire Chamber was of this scale, nor of this prominence.

Hermione was the first to spot Ginny, lying unconscious by the pool, with Riddle's diary in her outstretched hand. The posture of her fallen body suggested an act of last-minute rebellion, as if she was trying to rid herself of the spiritual incursion by discarding the diary. She'd managed that once already, but it looked like her second attempt was a failure.

Harry was more interested in the figure in what to anyone else may have been called shadows. As Hermione moved from the entryway to check on the fallen girl, the tall figure, a young man with ridiculously styled blonde hair, slid forwards, intent on picking up the catgirl's wand. Despite the shoes he wore, the boy made no sound. He didn't have a scent, either. The catboy's best guess was that this was Riddle, and letting the diary's projection get 'his' hands on a wand was probably a bad idea.

He very nearly flew from the shadows as he pounced, sailing across the intervening distance with ease, twisting as he did, both for extra distance and power, and to ensure his feet were under him when he landed. Slamming into Riddle's projection he shoved it back, stumbling, until it fell into the pool. At the noise, Hermione grabbed up her wand again.

_**We have to hurry**_, she yowled to her mate. _**She's alive, but she's fading fast. If this thing is possessing her, it's draining her life force and shredding her soul to make room for its own.**_

Harry's eyes narrowed. He didn't know this dying girl, except as his friend's sister. He figured she had a crush on him, her behaviour and the thing with the butter dish at the Burrow last summer made that obvious, but she wasn't his Her-my-honey, his _mate_. She was an innocent, tormented by this man, this _thing_ that was too stupid to know when he should just get over himself and die. Harry had a saving-people thing, and for his friend's sister, it was in high gear.

Hermione liked helping others. She hadn't always been appreciated for it, but she always _tried_. It was a lesser version of Harry's instinct, perhaps, but her life hadn't been spent with people whose attitude bordered on outright abusive, so the urge in her had not been quite so well-honed. Yet it was there. The girl before her needed help, so she would help.

Riddle's projection finally got its feet under it, and rose from the water spluttering and incensed. "_How dare he?_" Rage-filled thoughts occupied its mind, almost overwhelming its sense of superiority. "_How dare this half-human thing assault me? Harry Potter must die, as will any other such creature!_**"**

As the projection forced its way through the water, dragging more memories from the diary, and more magic and life force from the girl, it roared at Harry. "Tell me, Potter, too scared of dying at the hands of the greatest wizard in the world to stay human? By all accounts you'd only stand out more like that. And oh, look, you've dragged a girl into it as your plaything, how Slytherin of you. Now if only you were the Heir of Slytherin, you might actually stand a chance of surviving."

"If you were the greatest wizard in the world, I might be," Harry retorted. "Of course you ran into the scariest, most dangerous creature in existence: A fifteen-month-old with a full nappy. Give it up, if anyone in this place is the greatest wizard, its Albus Dumbledore, you didn't even try to face him. No, you chose to instead face the big, bad, baby!" Riddle's projection lost it.

Dragging itself from the pool, the projected spirit was at least solid enough to be drenched by its little sojourn in the water. If the thing was solid enough for that...

Harry leaped forward, slashing with the claws on his left hand, as the projection threw itself back... into the water again. The green-eyed boy took the opportunity to draw his wand as he moved, so as Riddle's spirit surfaced once more, he aimed his wand and pronounced the spell for the Full-body Bind. "Petrificus totalus."

The projection wasn't affected, but Ginny was. 'Riddle' had a nasty smirk on its face. "Oh, yes, I suppose I should teach you something before I kill you..."

Hermione cut the monologue off. "Don't bother ranting like a Bond villain, Riddle," she yelled, "we're not even in an inescapable deathtrap. So whatever spells we hurl at you hit Ginny, huh? Obviously, physical assault might work, or you wouldn't have dodged Harry's claws. The only problem..."

Harry took over the train of reasoning. "...by the time you're solid enough to kill, Ginny would be dead. However, there's two of us. I can keep you busy, while my girlfriend works on destroying your diary. She's really good with fire magic."

The very thought of the diary's destruction brought terror to the face of Riddle's projection. It turned to the bust and hissed loudly: {_Speak to me, Slytherin, Greatest of the Hogwarts Four!_}

As he finished, the mouth of the statue lowered with the grinding of stone on stone, causing both cat children's ears to flatten back. Realising exactly what was inside the rapidly opening portal, both of the felines closed their eyes tight. They were hideously outmatched, well out of their weight class, but if they ran, Ginny would die.

{_Slay them both, my pet!_} 'Riddle' commanded. {_They must both perish!_}

The gigantic serpent obeyed, lashing out at Harry, who barely dodged by throwing himself towards the basilisk's blind side. As his whiskers twitched, he heard wingbeats, and the Chamber grew warmer, and more brightly lit, as Dumbledore's phoenix companion, Fawkes appeared in a burst of blinding flames. Blinding, that is, for 'Riddle' and the basilisk.

Hermione's eyes were shut, but her whiskers told her where the great serpent was, and as Fawkes dropped a bedraggled bundle of cloth and leather to the floor, she moved. Magic was pretty much useless on a basilisk of this size, so she extended the claws in her right hand as she leaped forwards, planting a foot on the edge of its mouth and launching herself towards the snake's face. Biting back the cry of pain as she scraped her foot against one of the creature's fangs, she drove her arm forward blindly, covering herself with blood as her claws ruptured the serpent's remaining eye. Then she realised what had happened as her foot exploded with a slow, burning agony from the snake's venom.

"You hurt it, it kills you, a very fair trade," 'Riddle" gloated. "The venom is quite potent, and there is no cure."

Harry's voice was flat and cold. "Riddle," he said, "shut the hell up, you're monologue-ing. If I wanted your Fiendish Plan to Rule the World, I'd find a way to beat it out of you." He caught a glimpse of silver as he opened his eyes, knowing his mate had blinded the massive monster. There was a grip, a hilt, sticking out of the Sorting Hat, the bundle that Fawkes had dropped. As he dashed for it, the phoenix took off in the other direction, landing by the injured Hermione, and weeping tears onto her wound. The burning of the venom intensified for a few moments, before being replaced by a soothing coolness. The wound closed rapidly, not even leaving a scar.

"NO!" roared the diary's projection, as the catboy dragged a gleaming, silver broadsword from the hat, and turned in time to thrust it above him as the basilisk's mouth engulfed him. In a spray of blood, the end of the sword emerged from the roof of the basilisk's skull, and the huge serpent began to thrash in its death throes, almost spitting Harry back across the room. The wounds he received from the deadliest of snakes were more serious than his mate's, however. His right shoulder had been pierced by one of the basilisk's fangs, which was still embedded in the injury, while a second fang and opened up the scar on his brow, burning it with such intensity that Hermione thought she saw a flare of greenish smoke. As Harry screamed from the agony, she could have sworn she'd heard a second scream, smaller, yet of much higher pitch. As Fawkes wept onto her mate's injuries, she wrenched the fang from his shoulder.

'Riddle' was speechless. These half-human abominations (as he saw them, at least) had killed a millennial basilisk. It was impossible. Hermione kicking the diary out of Ginny's hand dragged his notice back to the possibility of... mortality. As she started hurling every destructive spell they'd been taught, as well as few from her 'independent study', the sneer came back to his face.

"There's nothing you can do, freak," he smirked, not noticing Harry's eyes narrow to slits, nor the way his ears laid flat back in rage. "I charmed that to be impervious to all spells that you can think of."

The emerald-eyed feline struggled to his feet, limping forwards. "For the last time Riddle," he growled as he picked up the fang that had been in his shoulder, wrapping it with the edge of his robes, just in case. "Shut. The. Hell. Up. And. Die." Each word was punctuated with a stab of the fang into the diary, which screamed and fountained some kind of ichor, too thick to be ink and too black to be blood. Each strike with the fang brought a corresponding hole in Riddle's projection, and the holes burned with a blackish fire as they consumed the spirit within the diary.

The two felines collapsed into each other's arms, trembling as the adrenaline began to wear off, and licking at each other, grooming their fur. Upon discovering that the basilisk blood tasted extremely nasty, they agreed that a shower would be better.

It was there that the teachers found them, the two exhausted felines and the girl they had gone to save.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "_Thoughts_"; _**Lingua Felinarum**_; {_Parseltongue_}.

Chapter 12: Soul Survivor?

Harry opened his eyes for a moment. That was a _very _familiar looking ceiling up there, and he felt that this would not be the last time he saw it,.or the rest of the infirmary There was a bundle of warmth curled up on his left side, purring lightly, much as he was now he thought of it, that he _knew_ was Hermione. Flicking his ears upright, noticing his mate's ears doing the same, he strained to hear the noise that had woken them.

Sobbing. Someone was crying, actually, several people were. The two felines struggled upright, leaving the bed behind as they sought the source of the weeping. It didn't take long, as the sounds were coming from a curtained-off bed on the far side of the hospital wing. Sliding silently forwards, the kitty couple strained their ears to hear.

The crying, consisting of ragged sobs and constant weeping, was coming from the people within. Seven redheads, almost all of Ron's family, to be precise, were gathered around the bed holding the last Weasley, Ginny. With them were the headmaster, the deputy headmistress and the school healer.

"She's dying." Poppy Pomfrey's voice was flat, bereft of hope. "There's nothing physically wrong, between my healing and Fawkes' tears, she is as healed as we can manage. The real problems are in her mind, her soul and her magic."

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked. He was holding his wife tightly, rocking her back and forth as she moaned as if she were the dying one.

Dumbledore spoke up, sorrow in his voice. "Soul magic is not very well understood, Arthur, and the human mind is not something easily defined. A person's magical core relies to a great extent on the strength of one's mind and soul. As strong as young Ginevra's were, this violation of her spirit has caused more trauma than she can deal with."

Pomfrey once again took up the explanation. "With this possession, her mind has retreated deep into her core, and her soul has suffered a great deal of trauma, almost being shredded. If Harry and Hermione had not saved her, it would have been too late for even saying goodbye." She bowed her head as the phoenix on the head of the bed crooned gently, then continued. "At the rate her soul's lesions are growing, she only has about a week. There are only a handful of treatments that _might_ save her life, and all of them require time and resources we don't have." The gentle healer broke down and joined the Weasleys in their grief. Outside the curtain, the feline couple clung to each other, grieving with them, wishing fervently for some answer, some way to save their friend.

Hermione, as was her habit, was scouring the books in the library for the solution. Harry, despite his preference for practical work, was helping as best he could. It was late the next night, and the two of them were under Harry's cloak in the restricted section, poring through every book, tome and journal they could find that might help. They ignored the urge to sleep, and worked long into the night. Harry was delving through the books on soul magic, there were far fewer of these, while his mate scoured those that involved mind-healing.

{_It looks bad, Harry,_} Hermione hissed to him. Parseltongue was far quieter than lingua felinarum when it came down to whispering. {_From what I can understand, the only two ways to bring her out from where she is are both impossible until the soul damage is repaired. Since that's what she's dying from..._} She bit back a sob. {_We can't wait for her to get better on her own, and we can't go in to get her, either._}

Harry nodded glumly as he turned the pages of his book. {_It's not looking good on this end, either,_} he hissed back, picking up the next tome in his pile, a silver-bound volume with gold letters proclaiming the title: _Bindings of the Soul_. As they struggled through the weighty reading, they became aware of the sun rising far enough to shine through the library windows. As Hermione stretched, Harry's eyes noticed the words on the next page: _Of these bonds, many and varied as they seem, _the book proclaimed, _only two have the power to knit up the unravelling of the injured soul. First,there is a true soulbond, but a single soulmate will not suffice, instead merely being dragged into the darkness with the first. Rather, an existing soulbond must care enough to risk their very souls in an all-or-nothing ritual with no guarantee of success. The second is a bond with a powerful magical creature, such as a phoenix or unicorn. Once again, the bonding ritual is rare, hazardous and has no guarantee of success._

From here, the book went on to detail both rituals, comprehensively.

Forgetting himself somewhat, the green-eyed catboy yowled in triumph. _**YES! Look, Her-my-honey, I found it! This should give us a chance to save her!**_ As he sprang to his feet, the Cloak fell to the floor, revealing them both to an impatient and rather upset looking Madam Pince.

The cat-children sat beside each other in Dumbledore's office as the headmaster perused the book in which they'd found the two rituals. To one side of the room were Arthur and Molly Weasley, clinging to the desperate hope that their Ginny could be saved. On the opposite side sat Professors McGonagall and Snape, and Madam Pomfrey, although the latter had a monitoring charm active, to keep an eye on her last patient's health. All the petrified victims of the basilisk's gaze had been restored that morning, leaving Ginny alone in the hospital wing. Well, not entirely alone as her brothers were still by her bedside, and Penelope Clearwater had joined them, clinging to Percy as if she'd never let him go. Even the oldest of the Weasley children were notified, and would be present in no more than a couple of days.

"So," Dumbledore mused aloud, "We are in need of either a soulbound couple, who are willing to risk their own lives for the love of Miss Weasley, or a powerful magical creature that is willing to bond to her. The former is exceptionally rare, although I have my suspicions as to where such a couple can be found... but I doubt their bond is ready for such an intrusion. As for the second..."

The old wizard was interrupted by Fawkes cry, a trill that inspired hope. The phoenix flamed out, disappearing in an instant, leaving all those in the office stunned for a few seconds. When Madam Pomfrey's monitoring charm began screeching at her, they all moved as quick as they could in order to get to the hospital wing. Harry took the lead, with Hermione close behind him, taking the stairs in leaps and bounds, bursting through the infirmary doors to see the Weasley brothers throwing _aguamenti _on the inferno that had been Ginny's bed. The spells had little, if any, effect on the blindingly intense flames, which died down after a few moments to reveal a massive pile of ashes where the 'littlest Weasley' had been.

No-one could move. The only sound was a horrible, high-pitched keening, the precursor to wrenching, grief-filled howls, emanating from the throat of Molly Weasley. Hermione moved to plant her face in her mate's chest, and McGonagall dropped her head, silent tears beginning to fall.

Then the pile of ash... moved. Ginny sat up from the fine grey powder, absolutely coated with it, a scrawny baby phoenix tumbling from her chest to her lap, squawking indignantly at the movement. Silence reigned. As the young girl turned and opened her eyes, Harry noted that her hair wasn't hair anymore. Rather, it was now an array of incredibly fine feathers, although since it was the same red-gold colour as before, he could see most humans missing the difference. Her eyes were also different, more like Fawkes' eyes now. As everyone else stared, he grabbed a blanket off the nearest bed and threw it over the girl's shoulders.

As Molly Weasley crushed her daughter to her in a bone-creaking hug, joined by those of her family who were present, the kitty couple ducked under Harry's cloak again while all attention was elsewhere and began to quietly leave.

They were almost through the doors when Professor Dumbledore spoke. "Mr Potter, Miss Granger, we still need to talk about many things. Once you're both rested, would you come to my office, please?" He paused for a moment, and looked directly at where they stood, concealed by the cloak's invisibility. "I am sure you have questions for me, much as I have some for you."

Once again, the feline couple sat in Dumbledore's office. As tired as they'd been, they had spent the past six hours asleep in each other's arms. They hadn't made a conscious decision in regards to this, and hadn't even realised it until they woke up spooned together, with Harry nuzzling at his mate's neck. It was obvious they'd been too exhausted for any other... activities, as they were still fully clothed. The couple had hurried to Dumbledore's office and met the headmaster there.

As the old wizard lowered himself into his chair, he ran through all the questions he had in his mind. "I shall make the two of you a deal," he began. "For each question you ask, I shall ask one. If I feel unable to answer a question, you may ask another. The same, of course, applies to you. If you wish to go first, Mr Potter?"

Harry considered carefully. "How come Hermione can speak Parseltongue now? For that matter, how can _I _speak Parseltongue? I thought it only ran in Slytherin's family. I'm not related to Riddle, am I?"

"Three questions for the price of one, hmmm? Very well, Harry. A little-known facet of Soul Magic is the transference of mystical gifts, such as Parseltongue. It can happen to pass, if two souls are in prolonged contact, that they will come to share their innate gifts. Not their memories, mind you, that would involve a soul merge, a very hazardous event indeed. There are three types of soul contact that could spark such a transference. The first is a familiar bond, such as I had with Fawkes."

Hermione interrupted. "Had, sir? I thought the familiar bond was unbreakable."

"Heavens, no my dear girl," Dumbledore answered. "If that were the case the bond would be little better than slavery. No, the only unbreakable bond is a true soulbond, and that is because the souls involved _choose_ each other, over and over, through lifetime after lifetime. This, incidentally is the second connection that can trigger a transference."

"And the third?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore sighed. "I truly wish I didn't have to answer this, but... the third form of contact is a form of possession, wherein a powerful soul, or fragment thereof is placed in a... container, if you will. Such a soul or fragment brings with it the gifts it originally possessed, pardon the pun. If the host survives, and later drives out or is freed from the soul or fragment, the gifts sometimes remain." Here, the old wizard pointed at Harry's brow. "Your scar most likely contained a fragment of Riddle's soul, broken loose when his curse rebounded when you were a baby. The only way that Miss Granger would acquire the gift, is if the two of you are soulmates, you see?"

Turning to the bushy-haired feline witch beside him, Harry mewled. _**This raises more questions than it answers. You want the next question?**_

_**It's Professor Dumbledore's turn first, Harry,**_ she replied. _**I get the question after that, though.**_

After the cat children had finished mewing at each other, Dumbledore continued. "I have to ask, Harry, what exactly happened in the Chamber of Secrets?"

It took a few minutes for the kitty couple to explain the events that took place beneath the school, and the headmaster listened well. Although he was a bit concerned for them, as almost no-one had ever survived basilisk venom, even through the application of phoenix tears, and even he had no idea what side effects might come from it. Although if _he_ didn't know, then_ Voldemort _certainly couldn't...

Momentarily side-tracked, the old wizard almost missed Hermione's question. "Is there some way, other than the Parseltongue, to detect a soulbond, Professor? If such a thing is true..."

"Of course, Miss Granger. It is generally recognised that in a soulbond the whole is greater than the sum of its parts." So saying, the headmaster summoned an odd device. It looked like a silver spire, with three spheres,one each of gold, red and black, in constant orbit about it. "I'm quite proud of this device. It measures one's magical core, of the Emryddian scale. You simply touch your wand to the apex, thus, and incant: _Metire magiae meae._"* As he pronounced the final syllable, the three orbs spun faster, until it was harder to make them out individually. A number appeared above the device, scribed in blue flame on thin air: 742. "And there you have it. If you wish, you may test it yourselves."

It was at this point that the miniature Gargoyle on Dumbledore's desk spoke up. "Professors Snape and McGonagall to see you, Headmaster." At the same time, its larger counterpart downstairs slid away from the doorway with the grinding of stone on stone. As the other two staff members entered, the kitty couple tested the device. Hermione's attempt registered a total of 700, while Harry scored a remarkable 750. From what the catgirl remembered, the Emryddian scale was based off the power levels from 1 (muggles and squibs) to 1000 (Merlin Emrys, himself, hence the scale's name). Then they tried it at the same time.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore stared at what was left of one of his priceless magical tools. The device had been capable of measuring at up to 2000 Emryddian. _Had_ was the operative word. When Harry and Hermione had taken each other's hand, the artifact detonated, with the three orbs scattering about the room. One orb embedded itself in the desk by the miniature gargoyle, spinning rapidly in place and causing a trail of grey smoke to rise from it. Another had whistled past Dumbledore's ear to smash a window on its way out of the castle, and the last passed so close to Snape's hair that the greasy locks parted, and so fast that they caught fire. Harry's hurried _Aguamenti_ doused the flames before too much could be burned. The device belched forth a gout of smoke, and died.

"Electrical engineering?" Harry asked his mate.

"Most likely," she replied.

"Would you kindly explain that?" the headmaster asked, somewhat confused, both by the detonation of his device, and by the nervous banter of the kitty couple. Electronics didn't function well too close to the wards around Hogwarts.

"Well, the theory is," began Harry, "that electronics must run on smoke." He looked to be having a hard time not laughing.

Hermione took over for the next line. "Because when the smoke escapes the device, it no longer functions." Both of the feline students were actually laughing out loud, now. As McGonagall and Dumbledore looked at each other, seeking some answer, they missed the smile on Snape's face. Everyone did, as it didn't stay there long.

Harry's next question had the headmaster's full attention. "Professor, why did you put me with the Dursleys?"

"For your safety, my boy," Dumbledore answered. "Due to the wards I used to enhance the protection your mother gave you, while you call that house home, you are safe."

"Excuse me, Professor," Hermione said. "I need to clarify this. When did you place the wards?"

"I spent the week after placing Harry emplacing them," the old wizard replied.

"So the wards were useless from day one." The flat and factual manner in which she said it brought a shocked silence to the room.

"If I may, Miss Granger," McGonagall asked, "what leads you to that conclusion?"

"A baby can't call anyplace home, Professor. At best, it needs a sense of warmth and belonging."

Harry muttered. "Blessed short supply of that at the Dursley house." He raised his voice a little. "By the time I could call anyplace home, _that_ house wasn't it. As I told Her-my-honey, this place, hazards to my life and all, is _still_ more home to me than the Dursley house."

"I take it you don't wish to go back, then?" Dumbledore enquired.

"Not unless you _want _the three largest scratching posts you've ever seen. They're bad enough with just my normal level of 'freakishness', imagine what they'd be like dealing with this. You'd really have to drug me to get me back there."

Snape remembered Petunia Evans, and had once met a much younger Vernon, though he preferred not to recall encountering such a buffoon, although imagining them as scratched-up lumps of meat held some appeal... he also began thinking about what potions and drugs might affect the felines, and startled, if not outright scared the others in the room by laughing.

As they stared, he spoke, in a voice buried in sarcasm. "I can see it now: The Dark Lord's New Ultimate Plan to Eliminate Harry Potter: two bags of catnip and a ball of yarn. It'll do wonders for his reputation at the next Evil Overlords Anonymous meeting."

Chuckling to himself, the potions master swept from the office, his smiles and good mood scaring several students as he passed.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "_Thoughts_"; _**Lingua Felinarum**_; {_Parseltongue_}.

This chapter's title is a nod to one of my favourite authors of sf, and his respect for cats. Chapter 14 will have another. Kudos to those who understand the reference.

Chapter 13: Door Into Summer.

The two half-human felines were curled together on the bench in their compartment of the Hogwarts Express as it made its way back to King's Cross Station. The Leaving Feast had been a huge relief, as those who'd been petrified were fully restored with no other side effects than a temporary stiffness. Hermione had received good news from her parents: They'd agreed to her inviting Harry to their home for the holidays, although they had planned on going to France. Of course, with Hermione 'kittified', that course of action was on the back burner. Chances were looking very slim, depending greatly on whether Fred, George and Ron could get the collars repaired in time.

They weren't alone in the compartment, as Ron and Neville had opted to keep them company. Susan Bones and her best friend, another Hufflepuff that the friends vaguely recognised from the Sorting in first year as Hannah Abbot, had dropped by and were chatting with Neville about Herbology homework. Across from the kitty couple nearest the door was the last member of the little group: the newly transformed Ginny Weasley.

It had taken a few days for some of her new abilities to manifest, but the one that had been obvious from the first was the change in her voice. It now possessed a musical quality, almost primally so, that cheered most of those she spoke to. Draco Malfoy and his ilk did not find it so pleasant, complaining loudly that her voice hurt their ears. She was still somewhat fragile, emotionally. Soul deep trauma wasn't easy to overcome, even with mythical assistance.

The door slammed open as the Malfoy scion and his two bodyguards entered. Harry raised his head from Hermione's lap at the disturbance, as the blonde menace glared around the room.

"Three blood-traitors, a half-blood and three things that shouldn't exist," Draco sneered. "At least we won't have to put up with those _things_ next year. There's no way my father's going to let animals be equal to wizards of pure-blood status. I told him I didn't think you could get lower than a mudblood, but the three of you... _abominations_, managed it."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Ginny said, delighting in the way the blonde boy winced as she did. "Your daddy has a few problems of his own, doesn't he?"

* * *

Amelia Bones, Susan's aunt and the head of the DMLE, had looked very carefully at the dates on the documents to replace Dumbledore, and take custody of Harry and Hermione. Even with emergency-based rush orders, he'd had the papers ready way too quickly. So the long political rigmarole had to have been started well before the first attack. When she'd presented him with the ruined diary, the senior Malfoy had gone white, throwing it over his shoulder, where his House-elf caught it... and one of Harry's socks, missing since the Chamber incident, fell out into the diminutive being's hand.

As Lucius had turned, drawing his wand from its hiding place in his cane, Harry had loudly exclaimed "So _that's_ where that one was!" at the same time as Dobby's "Master has given me a sock! Dobby is free!" As he levelled the wand at the emerald-eyed feline, Amelia Bones had reacted by breaking his jaw a second time, and arresting him on charges of endangerment and conspiracy, with the option for several counts of attempted murder if he made a fuss.

* * *

Draco did not take the reminder well. "He'll have those fictions overturned in no time, freak."

The Malfoy scion's harsh words had two effects. First, Ginny's emotional state was already fragile from the lingering traces of the possession, so she began to cry. Hermione leaped across the compartment to comfort her, and following Madam Pomfrey's instructions, also collected some of Ginny's tears in a vial, to test for curative properties.

The second effect stemmed solely from the harsh and critical way Draco had used the word 'freak'. It reminded Harry strongly of his time with the Dursleys, and his reaction was a little extreme. He stood, his fur fluffed out and crackling with some kind of magical discharge. He had no idea how to accomplish what he wanted, at least not magically. As upset as he was, seeing nothing but red, the catboy simply pushed at reality with his magic, completely forgetting to use his wand, and demanding that the arcane energies he'd gathered make it _so_.

There was an instant of utter blackness in the compartment, accompanied by the heat, humidity and smells of the deepest jungles, and a mighty roar, like a hunting lion, but deeper, more dangerous.

As the blackness faded, everyone in the compartment wondered what had just happened. Although Harry hadn't moved from where he stood, Draco, Crabbe and Goyle were cowering against the far wall of the corridor, trembling in their shredded and tattered robes, with a cold sweat covering them, and drenching their clothes, or rather, what was left of them. The three bullies didn't even have a scratch on them. Not even Harry knew what had happened. Leaving them to recover on their own, he closed the compartment door.

Platform 9¾ was as crowded as ever, and it took more than a few minutes to gather up their luggage. After promising to owl each other often, they parted ways, with Ron and Ginny following the twins and their mother to the Floo system, and Susan and Hannah meeting up with Madam Bones on the platform. Neville's grandmother was waiting for him, and that left the kitty couple, under their glamour charms, of course, heading in the direction of the barrier that lead out to the muggle side of the station.

Beyond the barrier, across the even more densely packed muggle station, Hermione could see her parents. The Grangers were casually dressed and waiting patiently. The feline couple made their way cautiously across to them, being very careful not to let their tails get caught on or in anything. Once there, Hermione was hugged fiercely, purring happily as her family welcomed her. Oddly, for once Harry didn't feel alone at the sight of some-one else's family, the hugs and love that he saw. He knew his mate was his new family, that hers was also his, and he'd never felt happier about something over which he had no control.

* * *

It was as they emerged from the station, and began putting the kitty couple's things in the back of the Grangers' station wagon that it happened.

"You! Boy!" The unpleasantness of Vernon Dursley's voice at high volume was something that Harry had been hoping to avoid. Harry flinched as the man came towards him, in what used to be an intimidating rush, but as his old habits fought his new instincts, he could see his uncle's 'rush' was more of a high-speed waddle. To the new Harry, Vernon Dursley was as intimidating as a duck.

As the overweight, no, _fat _man lumbered towards the emerald-eyed feline, Hermione caught Harry's flinch, obviously an ingrained behaviour, and began to see red. "_How dare that, that, _walrus _accost _my_ mate,_" she fumed, silently, as her claws emerged from her fingertips. Not that anyone could see them, of course.

Vernon ignored the bushy-haired girl who stepped closer to Harry, too intent on his nephew. "No nonsense from you, boy," he growled, "you're going back to your room, and none of... that stuff until you go back, unless they've finally kicked you out. Oh, yes you'll work for your keep."

Harry stood straighter. "But Uncle Vernon, I sent a message to you, saying I'd be spending this summer with Mr and Mrs Granger, here, and that you wouldn't need to 'take care' of me anymore."

"As if they'd want to have you," Vernon muttered.

"Actually," Michael Granger said, in a deceptively calm voice, "we're quite happy to have him around. He's a close friend of our girl and..." Alas, he got no further before Petunia's loud sniff cut him off, as she pointedly looked away from the family behind Harry.

"My condolences, sir." Vernon's response wiped the expression from Michael's face. "It's unfortunate that your child is so lacking in judgement that she's _friends_ with the boy. We'll just get him home and out of your hair."

Harry could smell the anger boiling out of his uncle, an overlay to a smell of rancid bacon, but there was another scent in there, almost sandwiched between the two... It took him a few minutes to understand what he was smelling: fear. Vernon was afraid of something. What? And why was he so insistent on Harry going back to Privet Drive? The catboy was certain he'd sent an owl with the message, and one signed by the headmaster, too. So why was his uncle so desperate to keep his despised nephew around?

A thought struck him. If his parents had made arrangements for his schooling eleven years before the actual schooling, then it was almost certain that they had made similar arrangements to provide for his upkeep until then. Any parent who thought that far ahead would have. Not that Harry had seen anything that suggested...

"_Oh, heck,_" he realised, in a burst of intuition. "_No wonder a low-end bureaucrat in a drill company could afford all those presents for Dudley. He was getting paid to look after me, pocketing it, and calling me a burden on _their_ finances!_"

While these thoughts flew through her mate's mind, Hermione was acting. After Mr Dursley's thinly-veiled insult, she lashed out at him, barely remembering to make it a solid slap, rather than gouging for one of the walrus' eyes, as her inner cat called for. She forgot that her claws were out, however, leaving four parallel trails slashed into his cheek across a bright red handprint.

Vernon stood there in shock, blinking for a few seconds before, with a sound not unlike an enraged water-buffalo, reaching for the chit who'd dared to hit him. As his hands closed in on the girl, Michael Granger's fist hit him across the ear, performing a feat Harry would have sworn was impossible if he wasn't seeing it before him now: lifting Vernon Dursley from his feet with neither magic nor a forklift. As Petunia started squalling in fear and anger, Dudley planted all the blame on the 'freak', knowing beyond a doubt, thanks to his father's indoctrination, that everything was Harry's fault, and hurting him for it was a good thing to do. So the youngest Dursley demonstrated his vaulting intellect by doing the same thing as his father, with a different target: Harry.

The green-eyed boy had seen the exact move Michael had pulled off to drive Vernon to the ground. Not having as much skill, he couldn't manage the same finesse, but his feline muscles made up for it, a little. On top of that, his opponent _was_ lighter, not by much, but still.

Dudley crashed down on top of his father, and Harry spoke in a low cold voice that growled at them. "That was stupid, Vernon. I refuse to call you Uncle. You tried to hurt Hermione. If her dad hadn't decked you, she would have. Then 'Duddy-kins' here proves the old saw about stupidity: that you're doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results." Harry turned away, as two constables arrived. The inner cat wouldn't leave it at that, and scraped his foot towards the Dursleys, as though covering scat in a litter tray.

"_I need some help,_" he thought, as he climbed into the back seat next to Hermione, who stroked his back until he purred.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "_Thoughts_"; _**Lingua Felinarum**_; {_Parseltongue_}.

Chapter 14: The Year of The Cat.

The Grangers' home was in an decent neighbourhood, on the outskirts of London. As could be expected of two dentists with only one child, they were not hurting financially. The house itself was a two-story building, with a fair-sized yard behind a seven-foot-high white fence. As they pulled into the drive, Harry spotted a gleaming brass plate by the front door, engraved in cursive script with 'Alexandria'.

Upon entering the house, he could see why. Even Harry had heard of the legendary library of that name, and all through the house were shelves upon shelves of books. Cookbooks in the kitchen, dental and medical texts in the study, educational books in the lounge... the green-eyed catboy had only seen so many books in one place a handful of times before. He did notice that those rooms also had a leather-bound _Complete Works of William Shakespeare _on the shelves. Once they were inside, dragging their trunks 'with difficulty', and the door closed, the kitty couple performed levitating charms and drifted their belongings upstairs.

The upper floor of the building consisted of one corridor, with six doors leading off it, three on each side. Hermione happily gave him a quick tour. "Those two doors lead to the bathrooms," she said, using English so as not to confuse her parents. They'd already dropped the glamours that had held all the way from the station. "This door leads to the master bedroom, that one's mine, and that's the guest bedroom."

After he'd put his trunk in the guest room, Harry stretched. Looking around he saw that unlike any other room in the house, with the possible exception of the bathrooms (although this _was_ Hermione's home, and he wouldn't put a knut on it as a bet) there were no books on the shelves. It looked barren, almost sterile in comparison. Making his way downstairs, he found Michael Granger in the kitchen, sipping at a mug of coffee.

"Umm, Mr Granger," he began, only for his mate's father to wave the title aside.

"Call me Michael, please, Harry," the older man said. "From what I've heard, you've more than earned it. What's up?"

The green-eyed boy leaned on the bench. "Is there some reason why the guest room's shelves are empty?"

Michael chuckled. Of all the things he'd thought might be troubling the lad, he settled on that. "That would be because we don't dictate someone's reading choices. Now, Samantha used to favour High Fantasy books, Lord of the Rings type stuff, but a lot of her books are references we use for our work. I prefer military thrillers and science fiction, especially the ones that actually use science. The shelves in our rooms reflect this. For guests, the rules are a little different. You can borrow a book from anywhere in the house to put on those shelves, if you put it back when you leave. If you have books of your own you don't mind sharing, you can those up there." At this point, his wife and his now feline daughter entered the kitchen. "And let me tell you, Harry, if you are dating my daughter, you _will _wind up owning books of your own. Why don't you start with these two." He slid two of his own favourite books, old classics of sf in his humble opinion across the bench to Harry. "The Grand Master of Science Fiction wrote these two, and you might enjoy them." Seeing the young man, for all that the youth was covered in fur and lashing his tail, gather himself to turn down the gift, Michael cunningly blocked the protest. "If you have to, think of them as a sort of thank you for the troll, and for choosing not to let our girl be alone."

As Hermione hugged him from behind, Samantha saw the books and was for a moment taken quite aback. "Michael, aren't those your _signed _copies?" she whispered to her husband.

"Shush, dear. Now Harry," he continued as the catboy quietly marvelled at the first books of his own he'd ever possessed that didn't involve school work, "it should go without saying, but I'm a little protective of my daughter. We've had things explained to us by your teachers as well as they could, and I can't say I'm happy about this... this heat thing that my kitten has been going through." Privately, he mused on the irony of his daughter's childhood nickname.

Harry swallowed nervously. He'd known and dreaded this conversation. He was twelve, for Pete's sake, he should be too young for this. Over the past few months, he and Hermione had managed to avoid repeating the occasion wherein they'd woken up in the same bed, but it had been a close run thing. "We're... not the happiest about that, either, sir." Harry felt that this topic called for a _lot_ of respect being shown. "We know we're too young for it, but... How do I say this?"

Hermione mewled in his ear._** Tell him about**_ _**the inner cat, love.**_

_**Can't you do this?**_ Harry asked her. _**No, never mind, I know it's up to me.**_

_**You can explain, I just seem to lecture. **_Hermione had gotten a good handle on what her own faults were, even if she still hadn't made much progress on fixing them yet.

Watching the two cat children mew back and forth, the older Grangers were certain the two were talking to each other. When Harry sighed deeply, a signal they both recognised as the male half of a couple admitting defeat from long familiarity, their certainty was justified.

"The two of us are still getting used to our instincts, what we call our 'inner cats'," Harry said, in a soft voice. "Most of the time, we're in control. Oh, there are minor things like purring, grooming and the desire to chase small, fast objects, but for the most part, we're still the same. Except..."

"When our daughter is in heat," Michael said in a flat tone. Luckily, the catboy knew that the dentist wasn't angry at him directly. "At which point you're both animals, right?"

"No," Harry stated. "I refuse to believe that. We still have choices. The dreams, I can deal with, and I left my wand with you two so I don't perform a Schroedinger Charm on one of those nights. I love Her-my-honey, but I'd rather not be spayed with a dental drill, thank you very much."

"Hmmm," Michael muttered, fully aware that both halves of the kitty couple could hear him, and pretending to scrawl in an imaginary notepad. "Good idea, I'll have to remember that one. I know you two have to fight your instincts, and the Healer, Pomfrey, wasn't it? She told us she'd given Hermione some potions to help prevent disasters, so if your control slips, the damage won't be too bad. I don't like it, I think you're being forced to grow up too fast, but short of locking you both in cages for five nights every month, I can't do anything but accept it. Just be warned, young man, if you break her heart, or hurt my kitten in any way, I'll nail your arse to my living room wall." The last sentence was growled in a manner a lion would have been envious of.

"I'll do my best to avoid that, sir," Harry replied, then grinned. "After all, that would be a catastrophe."

As the pun sank in, Michael heard his family, as well as Harry, burst into laughter. "I_ knew_ it, I'm the straight man," he muttered.

* * *

Harry awoke early the next morning. As no-one else was awake, he softly padded downstairs and began to familiarise himself with the kitchen layout, before he started breakfast. "_They're not the Dursleys,_" he thought to himself, figuring out proportions in his head. "_Divide by three, add a third of _that_, because the Grangers aren't going to starve me... I should probably fudge a little on the side of caution though..._"

As the emerald-eyed catboy moved around the kitchen, selecting ingredients and making preparations, he failed to notice as Hermione and Samantha paused in the doorway, slightly surprised. Harry had been here less than a day, most of that being asleep or shown the upper floor of the house, and here he was, moving through the unfamiliar kitchen as if he'd grown up there, almost dancing through an incredibly choreographed set of manoeuvres that were worth seeing for their own sake, that just so happened to leave food behind. And such food! Pancakes, tuna omelettes (they noticed Harry glancing into an open cookbook every now and then), orange juice, tea (coffee for Michael) prepared exactly how they liked it, and to top it all off, a jug of milk sat beside everything, with two glasses waiting to be filled. Michael himself, lured downstairs earlier than usual by the smells emerging from his kitchen was stunned by how good everything was.

"Harry, this is amazing," he praised between bites. "I've been in restaurants where the food wasn't this good." As Harry began to clear away the dishes, Michael waved at him to stop. "Fair division of labour, my lad. You cooked all this heavenly nosh, the ladies can manage the dishes, and you can teach me the recipe." The emerald-eyed feline blinked, as his mate collected the crockery from his hands.

"Daddy's right, Harry," she said. "He does most of the cooking around here, Mum's all thumbs in the kitchen."

Samantha raised her voice in attempted defence of her skills. "I'm not that bad, I'll have you know."

Hermione looked up at her mother, and smirked. "Mum, last night when you tried to prepare the rice, you managed to _burn_ the _water_. You're a terrible cook! Just as well you're a marvellous mum."

Harry cleared his throat. "Michael, Samantha, I wish to ask a favour of you," he said. "I'm concerned with what happened with the Dursleys at the station, and Lucius Malfoy has already tried to grab Hermione and me for being 'magical creatures'. So I want to go to Diagon Alley and Gringotts to see what I can do about this. Diagon Alley because that's where I can find books on Wizarding laws," he grinned as he saw his mate's amber eyes light up at the mention of books, "and Gringotts so I can fund, and ask for help finding, a good solicitor or legal team. Can you give me a lift?"

* * *

Getting to Diagon Alley was the easy part, he realised. As Harry and the Grangers scoured the shelves at Flourish and Blotts, they were coming to the reluctant conclusion that someone didn't want people to know what the laws were. They'd managed to find a few books that covered the laws, but the books in question were over three hundred years old! They would almost have to be hideously out of date. Making the purchases, they moved on.

Gringotts was far more likely to bear fruit, they found. The goblins were not friendly, of course, but given the wording of some of the laws in the three century old books, the kitty couple couldn't blame them. On the other hand, one of the treasures Hermione had found was a book on goblin etiquette...

The goblin culture was a warrior culture, and when denied by the treaties that past wizards had forced upon them the usual outlets of such an upbringing, had channelled their aggressions into the financial sectors. After all, economics could be considered a different kind war, could it not?

The goblin who was the teller at desk five that day would later be considered one of the most fortunate of their kind. Indeed, he came to bear the name Festergrip the Fated until the end of his days, but that's a whole different story to tell. Suffice it to say, he never would have imagined the course his life would take even five minutes before. He'd finished dealing with some outraged wizard-brat who wanted to withdraw some of his allowance from a vault he'd already run dry, and was somewhat shorter of temper than usual when he called out "next!"

"Greetings, honoured teller, may your foe's blood become your gold," said the young wizard before him. A green-eyed boy with wild, messy black hair, and a lightning bolt scar on his brow... or so it appeared. Shock at the customary greeting to a stranger had paralysed Festergrip's wits for a moment, which gave him a little time to recognise that he was seeing a glamour. The little witch with the bushy brown hair was also glamoured, but the two adults were not. Overcoming his surprise, the goblin replied.

"May your enemies' den become your own. How do you know that greeting, young wizard?"

"I hope I got it right, sir," Harry said. "My... best friend Hermione," here he gestured to the little witch, "found it in an old book on goblin etiquette. We still have to finish reading it, so we'll probably make some mistakes, but we're just starting to learn."

"Forgive my surprise, young ones, but this is a very different experience for me. To most of your kind, we aren't even people."

Hermione's answer was straightforward. "You can think, you can communicate, you're people."

"If you don't mind, sir," the emerald-eyed boy said, "we're here for business matters involving my relatives. There's also a few other legal matters we'll have to deal with, too, and I'd like to seek advice. Independent resources have turned out to be thin on the ground, you see."

"I see," said the goblin. "Exactly who is seeking this legal advice? Before you protest, I can see that you two are under glamours. Given that I can't see _who _is under these glamours, you'll understand my hesitance."

"Ah." Harry thought for a moment. "You see, Teller Festergrip, that's part of the problem. Due to certain events, Hermione and I need the legal advice for what we are hiding beneath these charms. It is a lengthy tale, but if you wish to hear it, this lobby is not the venue for the telling. As for the rest, my name is Harry. Harry Potter."

* * *

Harry's name was sufficient for Festergrip to kick their request up few levels, and the tale he'd been invited to hear was sufficient, by goblin traditions, for him to remain 'in the loop', as it were. He was by no means the only goblin involved now. There were five others in the room, and two humans. One was the curse-breaker who'd shown such promise in their Egyptian branch, one Bill Weasley, who'd requested, and received, a temporary transfer to assist with a family emergency. When Harry and the Grangers entered the room, he looked around. He'd had a little time for himself and Hermione to read the etiquette of this situation, and something was nagging at his mind. "Excuse me, Teller Festergrip," he said. "I wish to consult as to a point of etiquette with someone born to it, if I may."

As the goblin teller moved closer, the messy-haired wizard realised what was nagging at him. "Teller," he asked, "I've read that promotions in your society are rare and grueling, and take at least a decade to go through. Is my information correct?"

"It is," Festergrip replied, uncertain why the young wizard was asking.

"Have there been any such promotions in the past year?"

"There have not, but why is the information relative?"

"A few moments, teller, as I would hate to be mistaken and offend your nation, clan or person. Is the rank of cart-goblin sufficient to attend this meeting, or am I likely to need to go to my vault today?"

Truly curious now, Fester grip answered the youngster. "No, and if you did, we would send for one then."

"Last question, I promise, but it's the big one." Harry said. "Why is Griphook, the goblin who took me to my vault last year, present in the chamber?"

Looking around, Festergrip saw what the young wizard meant. "That's not Griphook, Mr Potter." It was as well to assume the lad was truthful until he was proven a liar, even if they did have preparations in place for that situation. That is Lawmaster Gripsack, an in-clan cousin if I remember correctly. They do look alike. He is part of the legal team currently assigned to the Potter estate, for financial law and as goblin liaison. The young woman over there is his partner, Miss Meredith Twist, she handle what your Ministry calls criminal and wizarding law."

A snort of laughter escaped Michael Granger. As all attention in the chamber settled on him, the man explained. "I don't think most muggle lawyers would so open about their legal strategy. I mean, Gripsack and Twist? Ouch."

Every male in the room winced as their minds caught up to Michael's.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "_Thoughts_"; _**Lingua Felinarum**_; {_Parseltongue_}.

Chapter 15:

The meeting at Gringotts had gone well. After confirming, through a simple blood and magic test, that Harry was indeed who he claimed, he and Hermione released their Glamours, revealing to all exactly what they were now. Bill Weasley took a double-take, realising that these were the two felines who'd saved his only sister's life. He couldn't help but spot their resemblance to certain Ancient Egyptian deities, either, as he had spent a lot of his career delving through the pyramids of that land. And the boy was _Harry Potter_.

As the oldest of the Weasleys' children thought hard about what was going on, the emerald-eyed catboy explained what brought them to Gringotts this day. "Whoever placed me with the Dursleys has been cheated. Despite receiving compensation for my presence and care, they have close on abused me, certainly neglected me, and claimed _to my face _that _I_ was a burden on _their_ finances," Harry declared. "I had come here today, hoping to be armed with actual knowledge of the appropriate laws, but for some reason, none of the shops in Diagon Alley had any books on law. They have to be purchased through the Ministry, and are never sold to those under-age as laws were pushed through years ago making such sales illegal."

Meredith Twist, a black-haired witch in her late twenties, nodded. "I've looked through the archives on such matters. Those laws themselves push the limits of what our world deems legal. Maybe they don't want anyone informed to decide they don't need the Ministry's lawyers? Or to defend against them?"

The oldest goblin present, Mottlecraw, leaned forward in his chair. "The financial transactions that have taken place so far are in order. A modest monthly sum of 200 Galleons was paid to the Dursleys for your keep in accordance with the laws on maintenance. However, your parents' wills were sealed by the ministry, and have yet to be probated. The papers were signed by a Ministry official in the Heritage Office, one Miss D. Umbridge."

"What about Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione asked. "Didn't he know what's going on? Why didn't _he_ help Harry?" Her tail was lashing back and forth in her anger, and she heard the _gulp_ sound that came from Bill Weasley.

Miss Twist sighed deeply, shaking her head. "He probably would have, but he's hamstrung by not just the laws, which it should be noted he voted against every time, but by the responsibilities of his positions in our society. Sure, he could resign his positions, but the problem there is that whoever replaced him would be much, much worse." She turned to Harry. "If you'd like, we can start the proceedings to transfer your guardianship, but it will likely happen that the paperwork will be 'lost' somewhere along its trek through the Ministry."

"Miss Twist," Bill said, "I might have an idea."

All eyes in the chamber turned to the young curse-breaker. "Before the ministry can declare you Dark Creatures, and a threat to society, you declare yourselves. Not Dark of course, that would be foolish, but there are legends in Egypt of the _Mahjai_, and the Children of Bast."

The goblins all straightened, and the lawyer-witch looked intrigued. Samantha Granger spoke into the silence. "Could someone explain the significance, please?" she asked as her husband agreed, while the feline couple looked puzzled, confused even, by the reference.

Taking a large tome from his robes, the oldest son of Arthur Weasley began to read.

* * *

"In the Two Kingdoms of Ancient Egypt, Bast was the cat-goddess. Where Anubis judged the dead, and Osiris ruled them, her place was as the guardian between the worlds. Even as a cat and a goddess, she still could not be everywhere at once, and so to counter the efforts of the cursed, the dead who yet lived, she asked of Ra and Horus, and received, permissions to call certain mortals to be her Children, and to act in her stead, standing between the cursed and the living, between the evil and the good." As he closed the book, he spoke for himself, in a low voice. "I'm fairly sure they're the only non-human race that isn't listed as being at least somewhat Dark."

Gripsack joined the conversation at this point. "You are correct, young Weasley, but there are certain traits and qualities that Children of Bast must possess, and be verified to possess, before they can be declared such. The test for such abilities is not an easy one."

"How so?" Harry asked, his curiosity rising.

"For a start, Mr Potter, it requires a _Mahjai_ to initiate, and they rarely leave Egypt," the goblin answered. "Second, the tests themselves involve blood and pain, and having curses and other spells directed at you. If you survive, you're a Child of Bast. If you aren't, you won't." Here Gripsack smiled, carefully not revealing his shark-like teeth. "You may want to come back in a few days, we can owl you then. Now, to set your mind at least a little at rest, we have indeed received notification that you are unable to continue residence with your... relatives." A shiver of rage, harder to suppress than he'd imagined, went through him. "We will be able to probate the wills upon receipt of authorisation from either your guardian or yourself, once you have reached the age of thirteen."

Hermione frowned at this information. "Why thirteen? Isn't that awfully young?"

Twist grinned, an almost vulpine smile. "Because that was the age of an aspiring young Death-eater's heir at the time. To get the brat his inheritance, they passed the law, and completely forgot about it when they sealed the Potter's wills. So at the end of July, young Harry gets his estate, a side effect of which, due to said law, is his legal emancipation in the wizarding world. He'll still need guardians, but at least he gets to choose them."

"That's good news, I suppose," said the catboy in question. "Gripsack, you mentioned traits and qualities, what exactly are those?"

The goblin lawyer looked at the boy. "There are rules in place that prevent me from naming them all, although you both match the physical qualities as far as I can tell. However, I _can_ tell you that the _Bast'et_, another name for the Children of Bast, are all capable of becoming animagi, and that their animagus forms are invariably feline. There are even legends of one _Bast'et _who could become a nundu, an African wizard named Suleimann. Very powerful, bottled a thousand djinni, by all legends."

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other. It took a moment to recall the term, but considering their Transfiguration professor, the word animagus soon came to mind.

"We'll do it," they said in unison.

* * *

The next two weeks were busy at the Grangers'. The kitty couple worked hard at their summer homework, and finalised their class choices for the next year. Neither did they slack off with their exercise, as their feline bodies _demanded_ a certain level of activity. They even swam, in the pool in the backyard, and learned the best ways to dry off non-magically through trial and error. It was in the second week that each other's scents became heady, almost intoxicating, once again. Hermione recognised the symptoms right away, and Harry was a few minutes behind. When he caught himself nuzzling at her neck, right in front of her parents, no less, the emerald-eyed catboy struggled with himself, a more difficult fight he could not imagine, and barely managed to pull himself away from the cinnamon and chocolate scent of his mate.

_**Why'd you stop, Harry?**_ she yowled. _**I was enjoying that.**_

_**Because if I hadn't, I wouldn't**_, he mewled in return. "I'm not sure, but I doubt your parents would like that. Especially not if they had to see it," he added. A quick glance revealed her parents' agreement. "_And _I'm_ not ready yet, no matter what my instincts say,_" he thought.

Looking towards her parents, the amber-eyed catgirl quietly murmured agreement. "That _would _be a bit much, I suppose." Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "Bad enough for us to sit here touching and purring, but- mmph! Mm-mmm." Harry managed to defuse her teasing by clamping his lips to hers, an action that amused Samantha Granger and annoyed her husband.

The young man walked over to Michael, holding out his wand in his hand, as well as Hermione's, that he'd filched while kissing her. "Mr Granger, perhaps it would make you feel better to have both of these? We learned a number of spells at school this year that would be useful for sneaking about behind your back, and I don't want you to think we disrespect your authority." Looking over his shoulder at the now-indignant catgirl, he answered the question in her glare. "I'm doing this because it's the right thing to do, Her-my-honey."

Michael chuckled at Harry's pet name for his daughter and pushed the wands back. "No, Harry, your word's good enough for me. And you might want to find a better nickname for Hermione, that one's a mouthful."

"Yes, Harry," chimed in Sam, "what do you really want to call her?"

Harry suddenly found his toes extremely interesting, and his mate's heart skipped at the mumbled response. "Mine."

Strangely, no-one laughed. Hermione's amber eyes watered a little with joy at the thought of him calling her that, and her parents took the answer seriously. "That might be a 'bit much', as Hermione says," her dad said. "Maybe you should shorten it."

"Mai?" Harry asked it more than said it, seeking his beloved's approval.

"I could live with that," she answered.

* * *

The felines weren't entirely certain how they'd managed to come through another heat without going insane. They'd finished off _all_ of their homework in a frenzy of effort, both desperately channelling their tension into action. They'd received owls from the Weasleys, especially Ginny as none of her brothers really understood the fundamental change she'd gone though. The biggest news was the family winning a drawing of some sort, and they'd debated going to Egypt, but with Bill currently in England anyway, the large family had decided to set the money aside for a rainy day. Ginny wrote of Fawkes' tutelage, trying to teach the young girl some of her abilities, starting with her 'phoenix-song'. At the end of the two weeks, a huge owl, a European eagle-owl, if Hermione was right, as she usually was, arrived with the letter from Gripsack and Twist, to a meeting at Gringotts.

Meredith Twist greeted Harry and the Grangers at the door, and led them off to one side. The Weasley twins had managed to replace the collars, with a few extra charms, such as Harry's suggested flea-repelling charm, incorporated into the enchantments, so the kitty couple were under the effects of their glamours today. The chamber they were led to had three people waiting for them. Bill Weasley and two others, clad in the robes of desert-dwellers. The older of the weather-beaten duo sat in a comfortable armchair, while the younger stood behind, and slightly to the left of the elder. As they entered the room, they were joined by Gripsack and a younger goblin carrying a large box of parchment scrolls.

The elder of the two Egyptians (for they could be no other) began to speak in a deep yet weary voice. "I am Yassar, an elder of the Mahjai. You wish for me to verify if you are _Bast'et_, so I ask that you show me why."

Harry and Hermione flicked there collars, dispelling the glamours upon them. For this meeting, they had both chosen to wear formal robes, tailored to display their tails and other features. On seeing them, Yassar hummed to himself.

"It would seem that you have received the first gift, the form of the _Bast'et_. Should you wish to proceed, it is possible you may die. Do you so wish?" At the old man's words , the older Grangers swallowed in fear, and clutched each other tightly.

The kitty couple reached for each other's hand, and spoke as one. "We do."

The desert-dweller smiled, and gestured to his younger companion, who placed a glass chalice etched with hieroglyphs upon the table, and filled it with an odd concoction from a similarly etched glass flask. As the bright blue liquid met the open air, it steamed and hissed, although not so much as to escape the chalice.

"Then you must drink of this. The Romans called it Aqua Vera Vitae, the Water of True Life. Sadly, there is no water in the making of it. It is the blood and venom of Apep's children, tempered by the tears of Bennu. If you survive, you will be tested further." Yassar grinned. "Then it will get... interesting."

Shaking, the felines reached out for the chalice, Harry drinking first, then Hermione. "_Hmm, tastes sort of smoky, but it's not something I'd drink for a choice..._" Then blackness reached up and knocked them to the floor.

* * *

A/N: Okay, I'm not certain of the mythology in this chapter, I'm by no means a scholar or expert on the subject. Most of what I 'know' on the subject comes from role-playing games, fictional works and Stargate shows, with a hint here and there of the Mummy movies. None of which are mine, dang it. To sum up a few of the names in the chapter, I include here _my_ definitions thereof:

Bast: Cat goddess, guardian of the underworld, protector of mortals from those cursed to undeath.

Osiris: God of the underworld, king of the worthy dead.

Anubis: Jackal god, judge of the dead, protects Ra through the night.

Horus: Falcon god, god of retribution, son and avenger of Osiris.

Ra: Falcon god, embodiment of the sun, king of the gods.

Apep: Serpent god, father of all snakes, attempts to devour Ra every night. Fails, of course.

Bennu: The First Phoenix, a god in his own right.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "_Thoughts_"; _**Lingua Felinarum**_; {_Parseltongue_}, ^Divine Speech^.

Chapter 16: The Patron and the Prisoner.

Hermione opened her eyes slightly ahead of Harry, expecting to see the ritual chamber below Gringotts. Instead, the feline couple had a completely different vista before them. The floor beneath them was formed by massive slabs of polished black glass, volcanic obsidian, and stretched out around them for a good thirty feet before ending in a sudden drop. All about the edge were white marble pillars that kept going up beyond all logical limits. The starry sky was reflected in the polished flagstones beneath them. No more than five feet separated the cat children from the main source of illumination, a massive bowl, ten feet across, filled with a flame that burned white and steady.

Glancing down at themselves brought a moment of shock. Their clothes had been transformed, or so it seemed. They were now clad in white, gauzy silks, in the form of short kilts and, in Hermione's case a wrap that encased her upper torso. These were surprisingly comfortable.

Once again looking around, the catgirl gasped. Beyond the edge of the... platform? Temple? She realised she wasn't sure how to classify this place. However, beyond it in three directions lay the endless sands of what had to be Egypt, as on the fourth side, the west, was the River Nile, and beyond it, the pyramids.

A brightening light on the eastern horizon caught their attention, and as the sun came up, three figures emerged from its brilliance. Two were humanoid, mostly, while the third was a massive white-gold cobra. The male humanoid had the head of a jackal, and a thin black coat of fur. He was clad much as Harry was, and as he moved towards the white fire at the centre of the temple, he let his weapon, a strange-looking blade that curved for two-thirds of its four-foot length, not counting the grip, clatter to the floor, where it faded from existence. As a simple Egyptian throne emerged from the floor, he collapsed into it. The female humanoid looked like a larger, golden-furred version of Hermione, with a long black braid down her spine. Apparently, her weapon of choice was a double-headed spear, one blade at each end. The throne that she claimed from nowhere wasn't simple, but festooned with gemstones and cushions. Her spear was laid across her shoulders as the cobra, who was at least the length of the basilisk, curled about one of the pillars. As the kitty couple stared, wide-eyed in shock and awe, the jackal-headed man opened one eye and looked straight at them for the first time.

^Hey, Bast,^ he said, his 'voice' bypassing their ears and heading straight into their conscious minds, ^Two of yours are here. You and Mehen deal with them, I'm going to go kip. Osiris has a busy day lined up, and I need my beauty sleep.^ With that 'said', he disappeared. No noise, no light, just there one instant, gone the next.^

The golden feline glared at the empty space, snarling. The two black-furred felines understood every word. _**Ra curse it, Anubis, why are you always doing this? **_She turned to the two cat children before her.

Mehen, who had to be the cobra, loosed a hissing chuckle. {_Because he knows how you react. Come, now, don't begrudge him the sleep. He _is_ pulling double duty, remember? Guard Ra's barge at night, judge the souls of the dead by day, it's not an easy task. At least we only have half that task._} This earned him a glare from Bast, as well.

Leaving her throne, she approached the kitty couple. Her scrutiny was thorough, and Harry and Hermione shivered as she assessed them. _**Well,**_ the golden feline said, _**I believe you are mine after all. Huh. **_She ran her paws over the remaining scars. _**I see the Mahjai are putting you through the ritual. Too bad for them, you were halfway through it already. This is going to be fun to watch.**_

Screwing up all his Gryffindor courage, Harry spoke up. _**Excuse me, but who are you, where are we, and how did we get here?**_ When his mate elbowed him, he added _**Oh and what did you mean halfway?**_

Bast laughed. _**You don't know? Then you're not Mahjai, and they didn't tell you. The little cocktail they give you, what did they say was in it?**_

_**Venom and blood of Apep's children, tempered by the tears of Bennu, **_Hermione answered.

_**Apep is the King of Serpents, who tries to devour the sun each night, his gaze and venom can kill or destroy any mortal, that sound familiar?**_ Without waiting for an answer, the golden feline went on. _**Bennu, bless his feathery hide, is the first phoenix. That pick-me-up you swallowed just increased the amounts already in your system. The good news is, it's not going to kill you. The bad news is, they may very well think it did if you don't get back in time. There are benefits, you know. You're Duati Bast'et now. Twice-born Bast'et. Poison and disease can't harm you now, and as for the other benefits your little side trip to Duat has given you, all I'll say is congratulations. Those you'll find out as you go. But it isn't free.**_

Harry gulped. It sounded like a _lot_ of power to be handing out. _**What's the price? I don't know if we can afford it.**_

The cat-goddess laughed out loud. _**Oh, you're one of mine all right. Don't worry, it's something you'd want to do anyway. You have to deal with the should-be-dead, the unliving who still walk. They are corruptions of the sacred ways, and they have to be destroyed. **_She held up one clawed hand, and a crystal vessel appeared, containing two wedge-shaped blobs of utter blackness. _**This one split his ka, his soul, by the murder of innocents, and by using a corrupted version of mummification, created vessels for fragments of his essence. The darkest of priest-mages only used this once. He did more. Significantly more. You will have to destroy him piecemeal, and I cannot aid you further. You either do this, or this thing becomes a plague upon your lands. Oh, and should any other like him arise, your duty is to destroy them, also. Never forget, you are Duati Bast'et.**_

Mehen slithered over to rise before them. {_It may not help much,_} he hissed, {_but all I have for you is advice. Remember this: that which does not kill you, only makes you stronger. Or was it more paranoid? I can never remember which..._}

Anubis' reappearance behind them startled the kitty couple beyond words to describe. No scent, no noise, just suddenly **there**. ^It's time for you to go back, little ones,^ he 'said', placing something on their heads before taking each by an arm. The temple and the vista surrounding it faded from view.

* * *

They came to themselves in the same moment, springing up from the floor as the people around them began to move forward, in an attempt to give aid that was suddenly no longer necessary. As Harry and Hermione came to their feet in low crouches, they became aware of a weight upon their brows, and, reaching up, discovered said weight to be circlets of gold in the shape of coiled cobras, hoods extended, one for each of them.

Yassar rose ponderously from his seat, forcing his old bones to rise, and then to kneel. "This test is done. There will be no more. In all my life I have never seen a Bast'et, and now in my twilight of life, I meet two, and they are Duati! I pay homage to the gods of light and dark, and greet you, Duati Bast'et." His assistant, in shock at the appearance of the circlets, dropped to his knees at hearing this, and prostrated himself.

You could almost hear the thoughts of every other being in the chamber, including the feline couple in question, screaming "What the hell is going on here?"

* * *

The rest of the visit to Gringotts was rather anti-climactic. Harry and Hermione provided their signatures using a blood quill, which for some reason dissolved after they'd finished, on the papers to declare themselves one of the handful of Light-aligned Sentient Magical Creatures, and the Bast'et were one of the two that were permitted wands. They deposited their circlets in Harry's trust vault, even as he took enough Galleons for spending. All three Grangers were somewhat gobsmacked by the amount of money in the vault, but Harry pointed out that he'd have traded all of it in a heartbeat for his parents... or Hermione.

After leaving the goblin bank, Harry and the Grangers moved through Diagon Alley and the shopping districts of muggle London, in preparation for their trip to France.

* * *

The cell was, as this prison's cells mostly were, dank, and dismal. Cornelius Oswald Fudge did not consider this mandatory inspection to be an appropriate use of his time, when he was trying to drum up support to finally snag control of the Potter brat from Dumbledore. He'd managed, by hook or crook, mostly crook, to eliminate from contention those he'd been informed were the biggest obstacles to claiming the boy as a 'ward of the Ministry', but then Dumbledore had left the brat with muggle blood relatives. Infuriating. Now, however, the foolish child had opened himself up to control. He was going to need MacNair in on this one, but that shouldn't be too much of a problem.

He was momentarily concerned when a voice called to him from a nearby cell, startling him enough to almost drop the copy of the Daily Prophet wedged under his arm. Then he realised where he was.

"Hullo, minister," called Sirius Black. "Taking the air tonight, or are we inspecting property with an eye to future tenancy?" That voice was far too cheerful for someone who'd been this close to dementors for twelve years and change.

"Oh, no, Mr Black," he returned the sally with all the scintillating wit at his disposal. "I'm here to, um, make sure that, er, you're enjoying your, um, stay at our lovely, hmm, establishment." Admittedly, if he'd managed it without the hesitations, it might actually have sounded impressive. As it was, he seemed more of a buffoon.

Sirius Black, the only truly surviving innocent man in Azkaban (What was left of most people after this long could _not_ be called surviving), grinned. "_Most un-Gryffindor of me to engage in a battle of wits with an unarmed man, but then, I'm a Marauder,_" he thought. Aloud and to his audience, which included the Minister of Magic and four Aurors, one of whom was Mad-Eye Moody and another... "_Curse it, why'd they bring a trainee down here? Why her? Poor Nymmie, she can't be too long out of school, must be near the end of her training._"

Leaning nonchalantly against the bars of his... 'accommodations', Sirius answered the minister with the cheekiest grin the Marauder could summon. "Oh, still sane for now, Corn-cob, although I could be wrong, you know. As for this lovely hotel suite you've arranged for me, I must say the room service is lacking. I couldn't even get a decent English Breakfast, did you know? And no newspaper. How am I meant to concoct any kind of Fiendish Master Plan without the daily crossword? It just can't be done, Old Bean. Hey, are you finished with that one?"

Disdainfully, the corrupt bureaucrat held out the newspaper towards the prisoner. "You mean this one? Why, yes, I have." So saying, he dropped it on the floor, just out of Black's reach. With a haughty laugh as Sirius slammed himself against the bars in an attempt to catch the paper, Fudge turned and left. He didn't see the youngest Auror nudge the paper slightly with her foot as she followed. Neither did Sirius, as his vision was filled with stars at that point, but he knew the Minister had dropped the paper further from him than that...

Dragging the newspaper into his cell, he shook his head to clear it, and started to look at the paper. "_Hmm, Arthur won a lottery, good for him, let's see, entire family in Britain, picture on page five... There we are. Interesting, something's different about the girl, Ginny, I think. That's the youngest boy, Ron, must be about Harry's age._"

The people and animals in Wizard photographs do not stand still, as everyone knew. Nonetheless, it must have been some form of destiny that caused Ron's pet rat Scabbers to struggle from the boy's pocket. Clearly revealed were the colouration and markings that only two other living people knew. One of them was Sirius Orion Black. "_It can't be... I've got to be certain. There! A missing claw! It's him, he's at Hogwarts! Harry's at Hogwarts by now, I've got to tell him._"

Determined, he sat down and finished the cryptic crossword. Then he made his Fiendish Master Plan. The next morning, the guard who delivered the gruel that passed for breakfast here found an empty cell. Sirius Black had managed the impossible. He'd escaped from Azkaban.

As the guard, dropping the tray with the gruel, ran back to the guard station to sound the alarm, a large black dog, a grim, detached itself from the shadows under Sirius' cot, left the cell and sauntered through the empty corridors.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "_Thoughts_"; _**Lingua Felinarum**_; {_Parseltongue_}.

Chapter 17: Where There's a Will...

Harry had never celebrated his birthday this way before. Actually, as far as he could remember, he'd never celebrated it at all, although he was fairly certain that his parents had done so when he turned one. He just didn't remember it. And the Dursleys had either ignored his birthday completely, or given him reasons to wish they had. But the end of _this _July brought several changes as compared to previous years.

First was the fact that the Grangers insisted that he have a party, so he and Hedwig were busy writing invitations to his friends. Ron, Neville, Susan and Ginny accepted, and arrangements had to be made to hook the Grangers' fireplace up to the floo network. The only problem was that 'Alexandria' was taken as a floo address. It took a few minutes for Hermione to come up with a decent replacement, and the Granger home was dubbed 'Legend Station' in short order.

Second was the celebration itself, including the presents. Ron got him a book on playing chess, which included tips on how to get the best advice from your pieces while learning. Neville gave him a book on wand-wood plants. Harry was delighted when Susan gave him an auror-quality wand-holster of dragonhide, Hungarian Horntail to be precise. "Now I won't have to fight a dragon to make one," he joked.

Ginny didn't have a gift as such, but instead sang for them, with Fawkes joining her in a two-part harmony that brought tears of joy to the eyes of everyone else. Then she gave him a present that Fred and George had sent him, a large, plush, toy mouse that he was sure was one of their pranks, especially when Ginny gave the command that animated it and had both feline teenagers chasing and hunting it. At least no-one had introduced the twins to Tom and Jerry cartoons yet, but with his luck, Harry figured it to be just a matter of time.

After lunch, the party wound down as the guests hurried home, and Harry and Hermione prepared for the next trip to Gringotts, where Harry would receive his family legacy.

* * *

The chamber for the will reading was of medium size, with benches for the people mentioned in the will to arrange themselves. At the front of the room was a large desk behind which were seated Harry's new legal team. Gripsack was shuffling papers about and holding a muttered discussion with Ms Twist about the details as they waited for the beneficiaries to enter. Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall and Poppy Pomfrey sat on the front bench at the left, while the cloaked and hooded Harry got the whole front bench to himself. The next row back held a greying man in worn tweed, as well as Amelia Bones and Severus Snape. Finally, there were a handful of Ministry flunkies, including one in the most atrocious pink cardigan, who looked like someone had performed unimaginable acts with some kind of toad-demon. At the other end of that row, almost directly behind Harry, were the Grangers, in similar outfits to the one he wore. As the doors closed, Gripsack was all business.

"This gathering is for the purpose of unsealing and reading the Potter wills," the grizzled goblin announced. "To that end, let us begin." Despite the legal mess that they'd gone through, there was still some grumbling from the flunkies. Gripsack lifted two crystal orbs to the table. "The primary executor of record is one Sirius Orion Black. Aforesaid person being unavailable, the task of executor falls to one Amelia Bones. If you will, please."

The Director of the DMLE stood. She was, to all outward appearances, calm. Inside she was seething. The toad-woman at the back of the room was the one responsible for ordering the sealing of the will, and had since been promoted to Senior Under-secretary for the Minister. "_No, the timing on that wasn't suspicious at all..._" she mused.

Activating the first sphere by touching it with her wand and commanding it "Narro", she waited with bated breath to hear the last wishes of two of her old friends.

The man whose form appeared above the orb was Harry's very image, if about ten years older. He was dressed in casual robes with a crest on them, a golden gryffin rearing on a crimson field*.

"Alright, I hope this isn't needed for a long time, but here goes. I, James Charlus Potter, at this time Heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of that name, being of relatively sound mind and body, do hereby make this, my last will and testament. All that I possess, property, titles and moneys alike, are to be given to my wife, Lily Marie Potter, or, should she predecease me, to our son Harry James Potter. Our accounts manager at Gringotts has the fully itemised list, sanctioned by Gringotts by-laws and Ministry laws and regulations on such inheritance. If neither one... survives me, then... everything is to be returned to the Crown. Not the Ministry, the Crown. Should this will be tampered with, good luck getting anything, the Goblin Nation knows what to do."

The only truly dry eyes in the room that didn't belong to goblins, who lacked tear ducts and so didn't count anyway, were Dolores Umbridge's. Severus Snape may have despised the man, but he had respected the fool's courage. He remembered in particular the last time he'd seen the man alive, just before the Potters went into hiding. Snape had berated his 'foe' for his fearless bravado and recklessness, and he'd been stunned by what Potter had said.

"_For your information, Severus,_" as James Potter had never used the nickname 'Snivellus' after the night Black had almost gotten him killed, "_I was pissing myself in fear every single moment. I don't doubt Lily was, either. But we had to do something, and so we did it anyway. _That's _courage. Spending every second in sheer, blinding panic, and still doing what you know is right. Oh, and Severus? I don't hate you at all anymore._"

As Madam Bones activated the second sphere, the Potions Master gasped. It was the form of Lily Potter, the former Ms Evans, that truly brought him to tears.

"I, Lily Marie Potter, being of sound mind and body, do hereby declare this my last will and testament. Knowing my husband, the only way this will be needed is if he's gone first, but if I'm wrong, he gets everything. I choose to think of it as a bet that no-one wants to win. Failing that, everything goes to our son. If he is... with us, everything goes to the Crown. James insists on this clause, and the provisions are as follows: Should Harry die before attaining his majority and crafting a will of his own, it will all go to his wife, should he have one, or to the Crown if he does not. Lastly, I entrust my son, Harry James Potter to the following, in order of preference: Sirius Orion Black, as Harry's bonded godfather; Alice Melissa Longbottom, as Harry's bonded godmother; Amelia Rose Bones, my trusted friend. In no circumstances should he be placed with my sister or her family, as comments she has made in my presence and to my face lead me to believe he would be in considerable danger from the... prejudiced man that is her husband."

Once the wills were complete, the pink-clad harridan stood. Raising her voice to what she considered authoritative, but everyone else considered merely petulant, she called loudly.

"On the authority of the Ministry of Magic, this will must be declared invalid, as the sole beneficiary has become a class three Dark Creature." She ignored the youngest of her 'minions', who was trying frantically to direct her attention to a particular document.

Harry pushed back his hood, revealing his feline features _and_ the circlet on his brow. "Whatever could you be talking about, Miss...?"

Still ignoring the poor flunky, she introduced herself in strident tones. Hermione couldn't understand how her mate managed not to wince. "I am Madam Dolores Umbridge, Senior Under-secretary for the Minister himself. We have you now, young Potter and you shall be punished most severely for your crimes..." Harry gestured with his hand, cutting her off mid-rant.

"I don't understand, Madam," Harry almost snarled, "why you insist I am Dark, nor what effect that should have on my parents' wills. I direct all legal matters to my solicitors, Gripsack and Twist."

Gripsack chuckled. "The paperwork and attestations were confirmed more than a month ago. As of that date, Harry James Potter and Hermione Jean Granger were affirmed in their status as _Duati Bast'et_, the first in the United Kingdom. As such, their rights and privileges are the same as any human wizard and witch, with certain dispensations. First, the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery does not apply. Second, regardless of origin, they are considered of pureblood status. Finally, attempts to tamper with or overset their legal rights may be dealt with at their discretion. You have been warned."

The pink horror that was Umbridge opened and closed her mouth, gasping at the air as if she were a _real_ toad trying to inflate herself. She finally looked at the youngest flunky, who sheepishly nodded and gave her the relevant document. After glaring at it, as if that would change what it said, she 'flounced' from the chamber.

Shortly thereafter, Harry and the Grangers perused the itemised list of his parents' legacy. Although they were indeed a Most Ancient and Noble House, their listings of property were few, a cottage in some village called Godric's Hollow, the Potter Manor, a villa in southern France, and a modest house in Australia. Money-wise, he was more than comfortably well-off, and with careful managing, would never _have_ to work a day in his life.

Thanks to Gringotts, it was no problem to acquire magical passports (or their mundane equivalents) for their two weeks in France.

* * *

By the time they returned to British soil, Harry was certain he'd never had a better summer in his life, with the possible exception of his first one, not that he could remember it. Still, he hadn't known Hermione then, so it was probably only second place. He _definitely _had a new appreciation for French fashion, especially as it pertained to his mate's swimwear. The _Daily Prophet _edition they received when they got back to the Grangers pretty much kicked over his sandcastle.

"Azkaban Escape!" it declared. "Manhunt for Mass Murderer!" Once you got past the headlines, the details were not encouraging. Sirius Black, who'd killed twelve muggles and a wizard, rumoured to be the Right Hand of the Dark Lord, had somehow disappeared from his secure cell in the wizard prison, and was evading a massive manhunt that included both the magical and mundane authorities. The newspaper that had been left in his cell, oddly, with a _nearly_ completed crossword, had several stories in it, none of which provided a clue to his whereabouts or possible destination. The only thing out of the ordinary was a crude sketch of a full moon and clouds, the picture of the crossword page being shown in the paper they were reading.


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "_Thoughts_"; _**Lingua Felinarum**_; {_Parseltongue_}.

Chapter 18: Summer's End.

Diagon Alley was bustling with the crush of witches and wizards getting their children ready for school once more. After a quick trip to Gringotts to gather the needed resources, Harry and the Grangers set out to acquire the items listed, all save two: Hagrid had thoughtfully sent the two of them, as his friends, a copy each of the Monster Book of Monsters, which had promptly attempted to eat their fingers when they tried to open them. If the emerald-eyed catboy hadn't spotted the similarities between the books' covers and their own fur, they would not have tried stroking the spines, on the assumption that if they liked their spines being stroked, then why wouldn't the books? Fortunately, they were right, and when Harry pointed out how to calm the dreaded tomes to the man who ran Flourish and Blotts, the poor fellow nearly wept with relief, and gave them a heavy discount for their purchases as he stationed one of his workers to keep the belligerent books happy.

It was here that they ran into Mrs Weasley, shopping with her children. Every one of the Weasley children still at Hogwarts wound up with new books and robes, no hand-me-downs this year for a change, thanks to the winnings from the draw earlier that summer. Ginny and Arthur were absent, as she was being assessed to determine the extent of her transformation, and the two would meet them at Florian Fortescue's after they'd finished. To round off the shopping trip, Ron asked to stop at the Magical Menagerie, to see if he could find something to settle the rat down, as he'd been throwing himself around his cage ever since the trio had gathered. Approaching the counter, he placed the travelling cage in front of the clerk.

"Excuse me," he said, "my rat is playing up and I think there's something wrong with him. Do you suppose I could get him a check-up?"

"Of course, lad," the young woman behind the counter replied, and a few diagnostic spells later, she had his answer. "Looks like he's got a case of nervous tension, with a lot of debilitative stress syndrome, young man. Tell me, does one of your room-mates own a cat?"

Harry looked around in time to see Ron glare at him. "What?" he asked in a confused voice.

* * *

Hermione didn't miss the exchange, but was looking around with only a fraction of her attention on her friends. At this time last year, she'd started thinking of getting a postal owl so she could keep in touch with Harry during the summer. _This_ year, that point was moot as her mate was staying with her family. She'd narrowed down the rough timing of her heat cycle, and was glad that it only became pressing every four months or so. She really wasn't sure she could avoid giving in to instinct on that one much longer. Half-distracted, she wandered through the store, where she found the cats.

Most of the 'conversation' she was hearing was showing a marked lack of intelligence. These were probably just regular cats. The next enclosure held a handful of cats with broader features. "_These have to be kneazles,_" she thought, crouching to take a closer look. Of the various animals in the enclosure, two stood out as far as she was concerned. The first was an enormous ginger creature, with the bowed legs and oddly squashed features of a cat/kneazle cross-breed. The other was a tiny full-blooded kneazle kitten, with completely black fur and disturbingly bright sapphire eyes. As she approached, the smaller felines looked at her, and turned back to their own business.

_**Hello, little one, **_Hermione mewled. She didn't expect what happened next, as a rush of kneazles, including the massive orange half-breed, stormed the front of the cage yowling and mewling, almost demanding that she pick them up to take with her.

The large ginger fought his way to the front, and yowled at her. _**Finally, someone I can deal with. Go on then, pick me, I'm the best choice here. **_He, the half-kneazle was definitely a he, paused a moment. _**You aren't going to neuter me, are you?**_

Perhaps in another lifetime, she might have picked up the cat, but now, something about his scent just didn't appeal, as if the new cat would try to displace her mate. "_Not going to happen,_" she thought. Glancing around the enclosure, she saw the kitten picking herself up from where the others had bowled her over. With an air of sadness, she turned away.

The amber-eyed Bast'et frowned. _**And where do you think you're going, little one?**_ she yowled. _**You haven't even talked to me yet.**_

_**This small one is of no consequence, lady, **_the kitten answered. _**If you wish a familiar, all these others are stronger and faster... and smarter... and, and, they're just better.**_

Hermione made her decision in that moment. Turning to the witch at the counter, she pointed at the kitten. "How much for little Pakhet, there?"

After paying the requisite Galleons, Hermione introduced the kneazle kitten to Harry, almost purring to her. _**This is my mate, Harry, little Pakhet. I'm going to be like your mama, so he is like your father, alright? Do you think you can help us both, tell us who not to trust?**_

Pakhet nodded. The emerald-eyed catboy smiled at Hermione. _**A new kitten, Mai? I thought you didn't want children yet,**_ he teased, and she answered with a playful slap.

Ron looked at his friends, and then down at his rat. "Scabbers, old boy," he muttered, "you're getting more and more outnumbered every time I turn around."

* * *

It was when they met up once more with the Weasleys that Harry decided something major was wrong. They'd kept going past the same people, a large black auror for one, and a young woman who'd gone past several times, with a different appearance each time. She hadn't been able to hide her scent, though. Pakhet hadn't made any fuss about them, though, so the friends hadn't made any, either, waiting until they were with Ron's family to bring up the matter. Arthur was staring out into the street, scrutinising passers-by with an almost hostile intensity when Harry spoke.

"So what's the latest threat to my well-being, Mr Weasley?"

Arthur jumped, startled by Harry's cut-to-the-chase attitude. The catboy was very perceptive _before_ his transformation, and now his senses were in a whole other league. "I'm sorry, Harry, but you see, I don't know where to start."

Hermione chipped in her tuppence worth. "The beginning, of course. If you start at the end, then the start, then the middle, it all gets confusing."

A dreamy voice, with a soft lilt interrupted their conversation. "Oh, I don't know," the stranger, a blonde girl about Ginny's age said. "That's how you would tell a time-travel story, but then the end you get to might not be the one you started with."

Ginny's happy voice supplied the other's identity. "Luna! How are you, I haven't seen you since the sorting ceremony." The last was said with a heavy dose of sorrow. "I'm sorry I wasn't there as a friend last year."

"Not your fault, Ginny," the blonde said, dismissing the apology. "I'm sure if you had been yourself full-time you would have been there. As it was you were someone else a lot of the time, and I blame them. Now, how do you like being a heliopath?" The red-haired girl was stunned.

"Is that what I am?" she wondered aloud.

"Of course," Luna replied. "The Minister is trying to create an army of your new people, but it isn't going too well for him, as they keep escaping. Something about the wards, I think."

Ginny realised she was ignoring her other friends and made hasty introductions. "Harry, Hermione, this is my friend and our neighbour, Luna Lovegood. Luna, This is Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, and of course you know my family, and these are Hermione's parents."

"It's a pleasure to meet you all, but who are the other two?" answered Luna.

For a moment the group was nonplussed by her response, but it didn't last long, and the kitty couple introduced Hedwig and Pakhet immediately they realised who Luna was talking about.

Arthur Weasley cleared his throat. "To get back to what I was talking about, Harry, it could be a painful topic for you..."

Harry cut the Weasley patriarch off. "It's about that Halloween, isn't it?"

"Well, yes," Arthur replied. "Your parents were murdered that night by... Riddle." It was a struggle for the Weasley patriarch to not say You-know-who, but by remembering the self-declared Dark Lord's original name made it easier. "Your parents went into hiding, but they placed their trust in the wrong person. Their location was under a special enchantment, a very powerful protection called the Fidelius Charm, by which only one person they designated could tell anyone where they were. Until you brought out their will, everyone assumed that their Secret-keeper was Sirius Black, one of your father's best friends, and when the aurors found him, he'd _apparently_ blown up another friend, Peter Pettigrew, and a street full of muggles, about a dozen, as well, and was standing there laughing madly that it was his fault. He was put in Azkaban almost at once. But when the will showed up, Madam Bones, who's the head of the DMLE, that's the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, heard that he was your bonded godfather. That put a whole different slant on things, because all the indications were that Riddle went to Godric's Hollow that night to kill you, and as your godfather, Black couldn't do anything to harm you without his own magic... killing him. So she went looking into the records of his trial thirteen years ago, and didn't find any. Not even a notice that they were sealed as confidential or top secret, and her position would even let her get at those." Arthur took a deep breath, and drank from his butterbeer, before continuing.

"Three days ago, Sirius Black performed the impossible. He escaped from Azkaban. So we're keeping an eye out for him, because he could be dangerous, at least until proven otherwise. If he is the one who betrayed Lily and James, we don't want him near you. If he isn't, we need him to prove it to the world."

As Arthur was explaining all this to the children, Molly had gone to fetch the latest copy of the Daily Prophet, and had just started reading it as he finished. Her temper went from 'loving motherly type' straight past 'howler' to alarm siren announcing the apocalypse'.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! THOSE... THOSE... THINGS SHOULD NEVER BE NEAR A SCHOOL! I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THAT... BUREAUCRAT IS THINKING!" From there, her rant descended into incoherent screams and rage, much to the consternation of passers-by. As she did, the others all stared at the headline that had set her off: FUDGE TAKES ACTION! DEMENTORS TO PROTECT HOGWARTS!

The details in the story were not reassuring, if the faces of those raised in the magical world were anything to go by. Harry glanced at his mate, amber eyes meeting emerald, and then asked the question plaguing them both. "Excuse me Mr Weasley, but what's a dementor?"


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "_Thoughts_"; _**Lingua Felinarum**_; {_Parseltongue_}.

Chapter 19: The Action of the Tiger.

Harry, Hermione and their friends, who now included Luna among their number, pushed their way through the crowded carriage on the Hogwarts Express. As soon as they'd hit the platform, Percy had departed to be with Penelope Clearwater. His girlfriend had earned some serious points with his mother by sticking with them when they'd thought Ginny was dying, and the two prefects were spending as much time together as they could. Unfortunately, the crowded conditions on the train meant that they were forced to share compartments with others, such as Neville going with Susan Bones and her best friend Hannah Abbott and a few other Hufflepuffs. Then they came across another compartment held by Fred, George and their friend Lee Jordan, where Ron, Ginny and Luna sat down.

"It's okay, Ron," Harry reassured his friend. "We'll be fine finding somewhere else to sit, and your family should be sticking together for now at least. We'll have plenty of time to catch up at Hogwarts."

"Yeah, but then _she'll_ make us study," the red-head mock-whined, indicating Hermione with a huge grin. "Then who knows what'll happen? I may even [shudder] _learn _something!"

Hermione raised her face in a show of dignity, called him a prat, and stuck her tongue out at him. With that, she grabbed her mate's arm and set off down the corridor. Laughing, Ron followed, promising Ginny he'd be back, and that he just wanted to know which compartment the kitty couple wound up in. It turned out that the only one with any room left in it was near the end of the train.

* * *

Sirius Black was grateful to his old friend, really he was, but if he kept snoring like that, he tempted to stuff marshmallows in his nose. The only thing staying his hand from this course of action was the memory of his last year at Hogwarts, when he'd done exactly that, and been chased around the Gryffindor Common Room for two hours by an irate Moony. Well, that and a distinct lack of marshmallows.

When his old friend showed up at their childhood meeting place, Sirius had been given a chance to explain the past. It was there that the Marauder duo had both learned a lot. Sirius' innocence made a lot more sense once Moony was told of his Padfoot's discoveries, and when Padfoot heard of Harry bringing his parents' wills into the open, he almost wept. The news of his godson's transformation and the reasons for it hadn't been noticed by the escapee, and Moony didn't notice Padfoot missing the information. Obviously, with Madam Bones investigating, they would quickly get to the bottom of things. Sirius could remember her from his own school-days, and knew he didn't want to be on her bad side. The problem was in getting evidence that would clear him. The muggle witnesses from that terrible day had long since been obliviated, and not even the greatest master-healer in all of Britain could retrieve wiped memories from twelve years ago. So the Marauders rode again, to capture the traitor who had once been one of them. The best place for this was at Hogwarts itself, and that meant getting Sirius, or more accurately, Padfoot, past the dementors and through the wards. So Moony was going to take up a job offer from Dumbledore, of the most dangerous post in Hogwarts (it had to be dangerous, no-one had managed to hold the post for more than a year for the last thirty years), that of the Professor for Defence Against the Dark Arts. Which led, through a logic chain the canine animagus had to call fuzzy, at best, to Moony bringing his big black dog with him, and the temptation of marshmallows.

He heard the students in the corridor and the rattle of the compartment door as it opened, and as one of the three parted from the others to dash back up the train, the scent hit him. CAT!

Having spent so much of the past decade and change in canine form, the former Prisoner of Azkaban was very much in tune with his canine instincts, almost too much so. Before he could even try to assess what was happening, he was up on all four feet, barking madly, which definitely woke his snoring friend, and lunging towards the door. In any other situation, this would have been a sort of good thing, keeping his cover as a dog, but in this case...

* * *

Having said "see you around" to Ron, Hermione reached for the compartment door. With Harry right behind her, she opened it, only to be immediately assaulted by the noise and motion of an enormous dog, a black wolfhound by first glance, fiercely defending its territory. Hissing loudly in fright and anger, she set her feet wide and dropped her hands to the floor instinctively, the scent of dog and wolf in this compartment almost overpowering, as she set herself for a fight.

Harry heard his mate hiss, saw her drop into a combat stance, and scented the canine and lupine odour in the compartment. With a tiger's roar that shook the windows up and down the corridor,he launched himself over the amber-eyed feline, pouncing bodily onto the dog and driving the very surprised and suddenly frightened hound to the floor. With his claws less than an inch from the dog's throat, there was stillness and silence as everyone in the compartment froze, both broken by the catgirl's voice.

"Ummm, Harry," she said, "I think this is a teacher."

* * *

Remus John Lupin had had a _very_ interesting month. First, he'd received an offer to be this year's DADA professor at Hogwarts, courtesy of the man who'd managed to pull enough strings to get him an education. It had been a job that the werewolf wizard had been thinking of turning down, since at that time he'd recently finished a freelance security job in the muggle world, and was going to spend the next month or two as he had for the past ten years, once he'd managed to crawl back out of the firewhiskey bottle: ransacking stories and documents trying to prove his remaining friend's innocence. Then he'd received that fateful edition of the Daily Prophet, in which Sirius had left, in Marauder Crossword Code, no less, a cry for help, and their meeting had become a council of war... sort of. But nothing had prepared him for _this_.

Before him were Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, he recognised that much from the will reading, but he was taken aback by the speed and ferocity of their actions. Before he could so much as reach for his wand, they'd taken down Padfoot and were still on edge about it. If he made the wrong move, he was certain the amber-eyed feline would have his legs off in a trice.

It was humbling. It was embarrassing. It was a learning experience. Then the bubble of stillness was burst by the kneazle kitten that poked its sleepy head up from Hermione's pocket, yawned, and mewed.

_**I heard a dog, Mama Mai. **_Pakhet looked around, and seeing that 'Papa' had everything under control, with Padfoot in a belly-up pose that said _he_ wasn't starting anything, no, not _him_, yawned again. _**Neither one's what they seem, but they're okay, I guess. **_With that, she sank back into the comfort of Hermione's pocket.

"Was that a kneazle?" the teacher asked. As Hermione nodded, straightening from her stance, she recognised the man from the will reading, by the greying hair and worn tweed.

"You must be professor Lupin," she said, holding out her hand. "Pleased to meet you."

For a moment, the werewolf wizard was startled. "How...? Are you using Legilimency?"

Harry spoke up. "Briefcase, actually, your name's on the front."

Since the dog seemed to know who was in charge, he stood up, stepping back cautiously so as not to tempt the canine with easy targets. Once he had, the wolfhound moved itself quickly to the seat next to Lupin's briefcase, just as Ron and Ginny flared out of thin air.

"Are you guys alright?" they asked. "We heard this huge roar, just after Malfoy and his troll-boys went past. Then they went past in the other direction, much faster, so we thought we'd find out what was up."

Harry sat across from the wolfhound while his mate took her spot beside him, and started purring. Little Pakhet must have liked the noise, as another purr soon emanated from the catgirl's pocket.

"The dog got a little excited when it smelled us, Ron," the emerald-eyed feline explained. "No damage to anything except his pride."

The dog looked like he was considering glaring at Harry. After a few minutes spent reassuring both Weasleys, who then returned to their compartment, the teenage felines turned to the teacher and his dog.

"So," said the catboy. "DADA teacher, right? Unless something has changed since last year, that's the only position open." He placed his arm over his mate's shoulders.

"Yes, actually," the greying professor answered. He measured the youth in front of him, barely thirteen and already faced the Dark Lord three times, and triumphed each time. In that situation, either Harry was very powerful, or Voldemort was not. Since he already _knew_ Voldemort was strong, that left only one conclusion. "This is my best friend, Padfoot," he continued, introducing the dog. As he did, the hound raised his head, trying to give the feline couple 'puppy-dog eyes' as no other creature could. "He's a bit excited and hard to keep in line, but he just came out of a very difficult home."

Hermione smiled. "I'm sure once the misunderstanding is behind us, we'll get on like a house on fire." Harry chuckled.

"Yeah. Flames, screams, people fleeing in fear, house on fire." He was promptly on the receiving end of his mate's glare. Oddly, Padfoot seemed to find the comment funny.

Professor Lupin claimed his side of the compartment, citing a long night and little sleep, and went back to sleep, and as Harry and Hermione hauled out their school texts and began to read ahead for their classes.

* * *

The sudden shock of the Hogwarts Express stopping would have thrown the kitty couple to the floor had they not possessed feline reflexes. They leaped to their feet as a strange chill filled the air, accompanied by the distant smell of tomb-dust and dried meat.

"We're not there yet, are we?" Harry whispered, not entirely sure why he was doing so. Hermione confirmed his thought.

"It should be another two hours," she muttered, as the DADA teacher struggled from sleep, and the dog, so full of energy earlier, cowered in fear.

The thing that opened the door to their compartment certainly fit the physical description of the dementors Mr Weasley had warned them about: a tattered black cloak with a hood; long, thin fingers that seemed human enough at first glance, but were too long and thin for that to be true; and floating through the air like a wound in the world, defying existence with their very being, bringing the chill of soul-raking terror and despair where-ever they went. For a moment that stretched into an eternity, it sought something in the compartment, something it seemed unable to find, as though whatever it was looking for, it couldn't 'see'.

As Remus scrabbled for his wand, and while Sirius' worst nightmares rose up again and again, the Duati Bast'et _moved_. Driven by instinct, Hermione plucked Pakhet from her pocket and deposited her in front of the dog, with a low growl telling him to guard. At the same time, Harry smashed the wraith-like monstrosity back into the corridor, before rolling away from it, the chill of the contact not even penetrating his fur, as his mate took up a position within the compartment, in front of the door. Again, the tiger-like roar sounded up and down the carriage, this time in stereo, as Hermione joined her mate in a declaration of battle joined.

The dementor, finally sensing that it was in over its much-concealed head, began to flee, but neither of the felines were having any of that. As Remus watched, his wand finally to hand, the eyes of the Duati Bast'et _glowed_, an eldritch energy lighting them from within, and they struck, driving their claws deep, Hermione at the 'neck', neatly severing it, and Harry through the back of the dementor's torso, dragging a withered, dusty lump from the cavity therein.

Agony erupted in the heads of everyone in the carriage, as the dementor's final scream pierced the air, a high-pitched keening that announced its dissolution in no uncertain terms, swiftly fading away as the tattered cloak and emaciated body scattered into dust on the wind.

Silence reigned as the kitty couple stood frozen for a moment, and then collapsed where they stood.


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "_Thoughts_"; _**Lingua Felinarum**_; {_Parseltongue_}.

Chapter 20: _The World Turned Upside-Down._

Hermione sniffed deeply as she woke up... she recognised that smell, old leather, painted wood, and camphor, with a _big _helping of dog and wolf. The rocking motion told her the train was again in motion, and the warmth against her left side was scented with licorice and mint, meaning she was up against Harry. Opening her eyes revealed to her the compartment on the train. Across from her was Pakhet, playing with a piece of knotted string being dangled in front of her by a tall, somewhat gaunt man with long hair tied back, and a neatly trimmed goatee. If he'd been a little scruffier...

Harry stirred, a fact that disturbed her train of thought faster than a mouse in motion. As he straightened, the kitty couple looked over at the door, where Professor Lupin was putting the finishing touches to a few privacy charms. Since Pakhet apparently trusted them, the Bast'et were willing to at least hear what was going on before yelling for help. The gaunt man was extremely happy for some reason, but Hermione noticed the absence of Lupin's dog... "_Yes, two plus two is four, he's an animagus... a _dog _animagus, but I don't think you get to choose what you turn into. Well, maybe Harry, but he does the impossible with distressing frequency."_

As Lupin sat down, Hermione spoke up. "Professor, could you re-introduce your companion, please? We're holding judgement because Pakhet seems to like you both, but we have no idea what's going on."

"Yes," added Harry, "and I don't think we can hold back our curiosity any more."

The stranger chuckled. He had a decent voice, not too deep, but one that seemed somewhat raspy, as if he wasn't used to speaking. "Although my friend here hasn't lied to you, the truth is a bit larger than what he chose to share," he said. "My name, or rather one of them, is indeed Padfoot. The other, well, let's just say you can't tell what you don't know. I'm a little embarrassed by how I acted before."

Harry laughed. "How you acted, or how you were schooled?" he asked.

Remus joined in with the catboy's laughter. "He has you there, Padfoot. Look, Harry, I was a friend of your parents, and I'm sorry I didn't speak to you in Gringott's when I was a witness for your parents' wills. I... have a condition, you see, that the Ministry has been using to control my whereabouts. I can avoid them in muggle society, but I wasn't able to enter the wizarding world to visit you..." At this point, the felines' eyes, amber and emerald both, narrowed in anger, and Harry started hissing some of the most vile curses Hermione had ever heard... luckily, in Parseltongue, so that the kneazle kitten didn't pick up any bad language. The two men in the compartment were shocked, taken aback as much by Harry's being a Parselmouth as by the vitriol and loathing he seemed to be putting into his five minute rant.

{_... the Minister of Magic himself __**AND**__ the horse he rode in on!_} he finished. The sheer length of the diatribe impressed the Professor and his friend, whereas his mate was reluctantly impressed that he hadn't repeated himself once. Still, it _was_ Hermione, so...

"Harry! Language!"

"Parseltongue, Mai," he responded. "It was that, Lingua Felinarum or English, and Pakhet understands two of those.

_**Three,**_ came the smug response from the kitten. _**I'm Mama Mai's familiar, Papa. What she can speak, I can understand, even if I can't speak it.**_

"Anyway," said Padfoot, "back to a more important section of the discussion, I'd like to make up for my brash rudeness earlier in some way, if you can think of something within my power to grant. Hopefully not something onerous like walk the Hogwarts Express tracks on my hands, though."

Harry turned to his mate with a wicked gleam in his eye. "Do you think?" he asked.

"Of course I do," she replied. As one, they turned to face Padfoot, who suddenly got a bad feeling about all this.

As one, they asked: "Could you teach _us_ to become animagi?"

* * *

As the kitty couple and their friends met up once again, to board the carriages for the ride up to the school, Padfoot, once more in his canine form, watched them go with a sense of... what to call it? Trepidation was too timid, exhilaration too energetic, foreboding too pessimistic. It was a strange feeling, akin to the feeling he'd get, oh, so long ago, when Prongs would get that look on his face that told his friends that the Marauders rode again. The boy he'd seen had inspired that feeling again, and he had definitely outgrown the 'Prongslet' nickname the Marauders had used for him as a baby. And the way they'd taken out that incarnation of terror... It sent shivers up his spine that anyone _could _do that, and to add in the fact that they didn't even realise what they'd managed was mind boggling. Then there was that roar...

Remus followed his friend's gaze towards the carriages as the two of them moved quickly up the teachers' stairs that allowed them to walk from the station to the castle well before the carriages could arrive, let alone the boats. Harry and Hermione were an amazing pair, and best friends on top of it. Having heard the full story of their transformation and the life-style changes that resulted from it, he and Sirius had both been shocked speechless. He'd never had a chance to bring up the Marauders, or anything else. Learning that Harry had been brought up by the Dursleys had stoked a certain degree of anger, but hearing that Harry need have nothing more to do with them was an incredible relief.

"Padfoot, my friend," he said to the Grim at his side, "I think we're in for some very interesting times."

* * *

The Sorting Ceremony had gone very well, with all the firsties going to their new Houses, although a few had to stay under the hat for a few minutes before it called out their destination. There were quite a few students with pet cats in the Great Hall, including a first-year who from all appearances had wound up with the large orange half-kneazle from Eeylop's. From what Hermione could remember, her name was Astoria Greengrass, and as she was sorted into Slytherin, she probably needed the help that her new friend Crookshanks would give her.

As the feast began, the presence of the dementors was announced, much to the dismay of the entire student body, and the auror by the entrance who was in charge of the nigh-unkillable terrors seemed very nervous. He'd made a 'head count' of his charges after the train had arrived, and came up one dementor short. The thought of a rogue dementor was upsetting, to say the least, so he'd quietly asked the Defense teacher to cover Patronus Charms in his curriculum this year, at least for everyone he felt could learn them. He hadn't actually said he suspected a rogue dementor, though. But what really made him nervous, what really scared the crap out of him, was the behaviour of the rest of the creatures.

They were _scared_.

After the feast, Harry, Hermione, and their Gryffindor friends were sitting in the common room, where the felines delivered some of the news about their new DADA professor. After explaining what had happened on the train, they were scoffed at for a moment by Fred and George, but the others believed them without hesitation.

"But it's impossible," the twins chorused. A passing seventh-year snorted at that.

"That just means no-one's done it... yet," Jacan Vaughn corrected them, "according to my big brother, anyway." As he walked off, meeting with another young man who had to be his twin, the Weasley twins sputtered.

"He's right," declared Ginny, glaring at Fred and George. "It was _impossible_ that I'd become a heliopath instead of dying, it was impossible that two second years could kill a millennial basilisk and it was impossible that Riddle could avoid dying in the first place."

Neville chuckled. "Not that Harry's ever seemed to care about what's impossible," he said. Spending the summer corresponding with Susan Bones, and occasionally visiting her, or being visited by her, had built up the lad's confidence, at least among friends.

After an hour or so exchanging Summertime stories, with Harry suggesting that Ginny register herself as a heliopath with the ministry, as the only other wand-bearing Light creature, before the politicians came after her as his friend, along the way, the group broke apart as they each sought out their beds.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was not in a good mood when Potter and his friends walked into the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning. The humiliations of his father, and himself, had to be repaid in full upon the person responsible. For some reason, he was convinced that was Harry, with a side order for his friends, and nothing anyone said would convince him otherwise.

As the felines and their Gryffindor friends took their seats at that table, where they were quickly joined by Susan, Hannah and Luna, the 'Prince' of Slytherin marched over to them, flanked by his bodyguards Crabbe and Goyle, with Pansy Parkinson tagging along. That quickly, the group was the centre of attention for the entire hall.

"Hey, Potter," the Malfoy heir called out. "I heard you passed out when the dementors came onto the train! Are you that much of a coward..." His voice trailed off as Harry pulled something from a pocket of his robes and threw it at the boy's feet. A withered grey lump the size of Draco's fist, rattling across the floor, until the Malfoy stooped and picked it up. "What is this thing? Some kind of challenge? All because you fainted?"

Snape stared at the grey lump in Draco's hand. There were exactly three people at the staff table who he knew of that could identify that... thing. Lupin was grinning with pride, Dumbledore was looking puzzled, and he himself was terrified. "_How did Potter get that?_"

"What you hold in your hand, Draco," Harry said, "is the heart of a dementor. You can only get them by killing a dementor. They are good for only one thing, instilling fear, and when they are removed from the dementor, their potency fades rapidly. In one hour, they are just a paperweight. Yes, I passed out. After the danger was gone. Can you say as much?"

As the blond boy reached for his wand, Hermione snatched back her mate's trophy, and Draco Malfoy lashed out with the first spell that came to his mind: "Stupefy!"

The dart of crimson magic sped across the small distance between Draco and Harry, who didn't have time to draw his wand, instead throwing himself forward, low to the ground, brushing his fingers against the flagstones in a manner that brought to mind a pouncing panther as he launched upwards, taking Draco by the throat and twisting the wrist of the pureblood scion's wand arm. As the teachers all stood, as Draco's wand hit the floor, Harry lashed his claws up along the blond's right cheek, leaving three parallel lines that welled up blood instantly, and scabbed over almost as quickly.

"Those will scar, Malfoy," Harry announced. "They are your first warning. I hope you don't need another." Turning, he returned to his tuna omelette and milk. Draco snatched up his wand and was about to bring it to bear again on his nemesis when the most unexpected thing happened.

"Mr Malfoy!" bellowed Severus Snape. "Thirty points from Slytherin, and a week's detention with Mr Filch!" Shock and silence, stillness beyond any in Hogwarts history, filled the Great Hall. Two Ravenclaws fainted.

Luna and Ron held out their hands to the Weasley twins, speaking in unison. "Pay up!"


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "_Thoughts_"; _**Lingua Felinarum**_; {_Parseltongue_}.

Chapter 21: Lessons of Living.

Ancient Runes was an incredible class, in Harry's opinion. The very concept that, by scribing the sometimes simple, sometimes intricate shapes onto a surface and pressing magic into them, you could craft almost anything magical, from flying brooms to wards, and set them to function indefinitely, appealed to him. It didn't hurt that he and Hermione had a certain knack for the subject, either. His amber-eyed mate dominated the theoretical side, striving to figure out _why_ each rune had a certain effect, _how _the magic flowed through and interacted between each rune. His own talents lay more in the direction of practical application of those runes. Hermione was a little behind _him_ in that area.

It was after the class had ended that the kitty couple were summoned to Dumbledore's office by a very much out-of-breath Colin Creevey, and hurried along the corridors. Uttering the gargoyle's password, 'Ice Mice', they swiftly found themselves the centre of attention in the chamber beyond.

That room contained, not just Dumbledore, but also Professors MacGonagall and Snape, Madam Pomfrey, Madam Bones (they recognised her from the will readings), as well as the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, the distressingly pink-clad Delores Umbridge and three aurors, none of whom were familiar. Of course, the toad-like witch _had _to take the worst possible course of action.

"There they are, aurors, take them into custody at once! The charge is destruction of Ministry property and treason!" she almost screamed. Following orders, the aurors acted, pulling their wands and moving, even as the three professors began to protest.

Of the people in the chamber, only Madam Poppy Pomfrey saw the first move on the felines' part. They split up, moving faster than the aurors did, drawing their own wands as they did so. Catching their antagonists off-guard by sheer dint of their speed, Harry yelled out "Aguamenti" mere fractions of a second before his mate called "Glisseo" in response, trapping the three highly trained enforcement wizards in what could pass for a small iceberg.

The ashen face of Minister Fudge indicated the outcome to have been unexpected. The feline children had just used co-ordinated _second-year_ spells to immobilise three men twice their age, and more experienced to boot. He'd discounted the exaggerations and rumours he'd heard of their first and second year activities, no way were they possible, but now he had evidence of just how fast they were. The trapped aurors couldn't wave their wands, which were also trapped in the ice, and they were unable to speak without badly stuttering from the cold, which would be bad for incanting spells. They were in no real danger, either, as their heads remained free of the ice.

To say Madam Bones was incensed would have been an understatement on the level of calling the Grand Canyon 'a wee little hole in the ground'. Her first words were delivered in a chilling tone of voice that made the three aurors feel like their current position was positively tropical by comparison. "First, _Delores_, you have no authority to order _my_ aurors around as if they were your personal army," she almost hissed. "Second, these two are here to assist in my investigation of this event, as well as _why _we have a 'kiss on sight' order for a man who _never got a trial_ for the crime he was accused of. Hell, Malfoy and Lestrange got trials, why didn't Black?" The Minister looked a little redder than usual at this point. Turning to the two Duati Bast'et, Madam Bones again spoke.

"If you would excuse my aurors," she said, with a sidelong glance at the men in question, "who are obviously in need of a refresher course with Senior Auror Moody," at which point the trapped aurors began trembling even more than the ice would call for, "I would be grateful. I _requested _your presence to assist in my enquiries. Could you please tell me what happened when the dementors boarded the train?"

* * *

It was a good half-an-hour before they'd finished speaking, carefully editing out any mention of Remus Lupin's companion as anything other than a dog. The details were more than enough for the Head of The DMLE to hand down a decision. "Right," she said. "Since it is apparent we cannot trust the creatures anywhere near children, something that the 'wiser heads' within the Ministry insisted upon," a glare was directed at the pink horror that was Umbridge, "I'm having the dementors recalled to Azkaban. This will also serve to prevent the destruction of any others. If it's alright with the two of you, Harry, Hermione, I'd appreciate your assistance should any go rogue."

Harry answered her. "That's okay for now, Madam Bones, but you should find some way to replace them as guards. We're bound as Bast'et to hunt and destroy them, as they disrupt the barriers between Life and Death." The calm and matter-of-fact tone in which he said it, as well as the withered grey lump he was casually tossing from hand to hand, convinced her to keep a close eye on this one. If he didn't become an auror, hit wizard or unspeakable after Hogwarts, she'd be very surprised.

Returning her gaze once more to Umbridge, she stared for a few minutes. The pink-clad witch was building to a point where her temper would again explode. With an ease that spoke of long experience at winding up suspects, Madam Bones spoke just before the snapping of that fragile tether.

"Delores Umbridge, for attempting to arrest Duati Bast'et in the course of their duties, attempting interference in the workings of a case under investigation, and attempting to overturn succession of title for a Wizarding House, it gives me great satisfaction to announce your arrest."

Despite the Minister's protests, he was unable to convince Madam Bones to release Umbridge. The aurors, once defrosted, had been positively eager to obey the Head of the DMLE, and not just from fear of being charged or fired. All three were muggle-born, and had had quite enough of Umbridge's bigoted rantings.

* * *

The school was abuzz with the rumours surrounding what happened: the felines were arrested for being monsters (Draco came up with that one, saying his father would see to it); No, they were being condemned for killing a dementor; No, commended for it; They fought off a dozen aurors and escaped; They fought off a dozen aurors and stayed.

The only thing all the rumours had in common was their subject. A handful of them included some fragment of truth, overinflated until it seemed like the whole story. The Weasley twins were taking bets like crazy, but everything stopped when Ron and Luna both placed the same bet: Harry and Hermione had been ambushed, and caused the arrest of their ambusher. Hearing this from the two students who had been winning their bets consistently for the past year, Fred called "Last bet, hold your tickets", while George looked in his little red book to figure out the odds. Based on the kitty couple's prior activities, that one was an even bet.

When the announcement of the woman's arrest hit the Daily Prophet the next morning (neither feline had said a thing, nor had any of the staff, but Madam Pomfrey had seemed positively cheerful raising a glass with Snape, of all people, who not only returned the salute, but _smiled as he did._ Nearly three hundred students experienced a chill down their spines like never before. What was happening to the Great Bat Monster? Was it possible that he was, beneath it all, _human_?

* * *

Harry sorted through his mind, trying to recall exactly what his happiest memory was. Professor Lupin had decided that teaching the Patronus Charm was a very good idea, even if the dementors were being removed from the school. The central point was that although creatures like the dementors fed on 'happy thoughts', an incredibly indistinct term if you asked Hermione, the concentration of such required to form a Patronus was supposedly toxic to the monsters. Harry was still unconvinced.

A large portion of the class were able to produce a spray of silvery mist when called upon, although Draco Malfoy and his 'friends' were unable to manage even that much. It was a surprise to them all when Daphne Greengrass managed to produce a solid silvery king cobra, which wrapped itself protectively around her.

"Excellent work, Miss Greengrass," the professor said. "It takes a great deal of concentration _and_ a pure happy memory to manage that. We call this the corporeal Patronus, and it requires more than just any old memory to invoke, it needs to be a memory of true joy. If it isn't being nosey, Miss Greengrass, what memory did you use?"

The girl that most students called the Ice Queen of Slytherin spoke. "When I first met my little sister, she looked me in the eyes and grabbed my finger, Professor. It was that moment that I realised here was someone who loved me unconditionally, without reservations. _That_ is the memory I used."

Hermione looked straight at Harry, amber to emerald, as the realisation struck them both. _**If love were distance... **_she purred.

_**The universe isn't big enough,**_ he responded, and replied, _**If love were time...**_

_**Eternity's not long enough,**_ she finished. The two of them turned to the empty section of the classroom and almost roared, in unison, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

The class and the teacher watched in stunned amazement as two huge tigers of burning silver emerged from the kitty couple's wands and _roared._ As the incarnations of the kitty couple's happiness _moved_ around the room at speed, without disturbing so much as single hair on anyone's head, there was silence. Once the tigers had stopped moving, they nuzzled, pressing their faces against each other, then faded away into a silvery flame that dwindled and vanished.

The silence continued for a few moments, broken only by the sounds of breathing as everyone tried to wrap their minds around what had happened. As one, they all turned to the felines who were holding each other close and purring like a thunderstorm. No-one needed to ask; it was obvious that their 'happy thoughts' were each other.

"W-well done," Professor Lupin said. "Twenty points each to those who've managed the corporeal Patronus, and five for the mist," he announced as the bells signalling the end of class rang out. As everyone departed, Padfoot emerged from beneath the desk, where he'd hidden as soon as the tigers had appeared. Looking down at his best friend, Remus Lupin nodded. "Yes, old friend, I need a good stiff drink, too."

* * *

Ron sat at the table in the Great Hall, listening as his best friends were the centre of attention. He'd had a moment or two when 'the green-eyed monster' (No, he firmly told his subconscious mind, _not_ Harry) had tried to rise. Jealousy, he realised, was an ugly, immature thing for him to feel over something like this. It didn't stop him feeling it, but since his decision last year to expand his chess 'gift' to apply to other things, he was painfully aware of what such a thing could cost him. Yes, Harry had become a Bast'et to keep Hermione from being alone, and succeeded at that beyond his wildest dreams, but the price was that neither was entirely human anymore. Yes, they generally got better grades than he did, but honestly, _he _was the one not doing as much as they, and couldn't _justly_ blame them for that (He _could_ blame them, it simply wouldn't be just). So Ron Weasley set up his chessboard for a game... and Luna Lovegood sat down and started placing _her _white pieces opposite him. The craftsmanship of the pieces wasn't a professional job, as if she'd done them herself, but then, they didn't look like most chessmen, either. As she smiled at him, she spoke.

"The pawns are Nargles, the rooks are Wrackspurts, I've got Heliopaths for Bishops, a dragon for the Queen and the King is an Ent," she announced. "Ent's Nargle to e3." As the piece moved, Ron asked the question her statement seemed designed to provoke.

"So what are the Knights?" He could _see_ how she had to answer.

"Crumple-horned Snorkacks, of course."

The game was a draw.

* * *

Remus looked around the DADA classroom. "I must admit," he said to Harry, "when you and Hermione said 'us', we didn't think to clarify exactly how many of 'us' you were talking about." If he was being honest, the kitty couple (a phrase of quite some popularity at Hogwarts, even among the staff) had probably intended it that way. Looking around at the small horde of friends, he chuckled. "I believe you pranked us quite well. Eager to be the next Marauders?"

The group consisted of Harry and Hermione (of course) as well as Ron, Neville and Ginny. It was the other two who'd surprised Remus. The daughter of Xenophilius Lovegood and the niece of Amelia Bones. When they'd insisted on the inclusion of their friends, he hadn't realised they'd crossed House lines. The only thing that could startle him more would be...

The knock on the door made everyone other than the felines jump. _They_ just grinned like their Cheshire cousins as Remus called out. "Come in, it isn't locked." He amended his statement with a mental _yet_.

Daphne Greengrass was the last person he'd expected. "Potter," she said frostily as she approached them, "your owl dropped this on my bed, what in Merlin's name is going on?"

Hermione took the slightly crumpled piece of parchment. "Miss Greengrass. Come to the DADA classroom after dinner to learn something of great benefit. Tell only those you trust absolutely. Potter." Looking at the Slytherin girl, she smiled. "Seems perfectly straightforward to me. This little circle consists of our friends, and if you want to learn this 'something', you'll be making yourself one of us. Harry insisted, something about your Patronus memory touched him. Me, too, to be honest, but he more than I."

"What would I be learning?" the 'Ice Queen' asked. "If it's not worth the hassle of being your friend, I get to back out."

Harry answered her while everyone else was still thinking of their response to the black-haired girl's presence. "First secret: You'll learn of an innocent man's persecution. Second secret: You'll learn of a gift we plan to acquire, and acquire it yourself. Third secret: You don't _have_ to be seen to be our friend, although we do need a little balance. We don't know any other Slytherins and we need one of you here to remind us you're not all bad."

Ron spoke up. "Harry, are you sure? She's a Slytherin, everyone knows you can't trust them." Even as he said it, Ron realised a major flaw in his premise, and held up his hand to forestall an argument. "Then again, _everyone_ knows the Boy-who-lived took down eight dragons at the age of six, so what do I know? Sorry about that, knee-jerk reaction from knowing Malfoy."

Daphne smiled. "_A person's smile really shouldn't make a man's blood freeze like that,_" Neville thought.

"Quite understandable, Mr Weasley," Daphne answered Ron. "Any time I spend in his odious presence makes my knee jerk, too." Every male in the room, including the dog, winced and sucked in air. "So, why did you offer this to me?"

Harry shrugged. "As Mai said, it was your Patronus memory. You got it from happiness at being loved. If you feel that happy just knowing your little sister loves you, you're likely to do anything it takes to keep her safe. With Malfoy around, we're the 'anything'. Other Slytherins might help, but he's in that House too. We're a circle of friends outside his influence. Somewhere to turn when you have to. What do you say?"

The Slytherin Ice Queen didn't even have to think about it. "I'm in."


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "_Thoughts_"; _**Lingua Felinarum**_; {_Parseltongue_}.

Chapter 22: The Animals Within Want Out.

"So, is it ready?" The shaggy-haired fugitive asked his friend. The potion Lupin had been working on kept bubbling away on the low heat. It was a fairly large batch, but it was for eight people.

"No, Padfoot," came the exasperated reply. "It needs to simmer for another day before the next step. On Saturday, it should be done. It can't be hurried, so they can add the last ingredient then."

"I never expected the revealing potion to show us all those animals," Padfoot said after a few minutes silence. "A group that small, and I would have expected only a few to be capable of the transformation, or at least one or two who weren't. But all eight of them?"

The revelation of the animagus forms of Harry's group was startling, Remus had to admit. He hadn't been thinking about it much as he administered the potion, but afterwards had sat alone in his office for hours to consider the ramifications of unleashing _eight teenage animagi_ on the poor, unsuspecting school. On top of that worry, was the way Harry had insisted on not registering their forms.

"It's not because the Marauders did it that way," Harry had said, "at least, not entirely. Mostly, it's because if the Ministry isn't actively against me, like that... wears pink, I've forgotten the name, then they're being restrained by those who are. Until one of us reveals the secret, we'd rather keep it as an ace up our sleeves."

Daphne had been offered the first dose, and since the potion worked by transforming them for a minute, had become a twelve-foot long, jet-black king cobra, after flaring her hood a few times, she returned to normal. "That was... odd," she'd said. "I was hearing things with my entire body, and smelling things with my tongue. It... I just don't know how to say it." After a few moments thought, she'd spoken again. "It was like coming home from Hogwarts, if I'd never known a real home." She'd missed it when Harry flinched at her choice of words, but no-one else had.

Ginny had gone next, and spent the next sixty seconds as a phoenix, which had surprised no-one. "It's only natural for a Heliopath," Luna had remarked, and then swallowed her own dose, and changed.

It had been an odd creature, standing no more than two feet at the shoulder on all fours, with slender legs and body remininscent of a greyhound or whippet. The long tail, matching the body-length of a two and a half feet, and the long and flexible neck were like those of a mongoose. Her head had been long, almost horse-like, although the four eyes definitely screamed 'unusual', with two on the sides of the head while the other two faced forwards. She'd also had long rabbit-like ears that twitched towards any sound, no matter how slight. The entirety of the creature's fur was silver, tinged lightly with blue, and a single, crumpled, purple horn swept back over the crest of her skull. As the friends had watched, she'd flickered in and out of visibility a few times before turning back to her human form.

"See," the excited girl had proclaimed, with such infectious enthusiasm, the others all smiled, "Crumple-horned Snorkacks _do _exist!"

The others had more mundane forms, it seemed. Ron had transformed into a red-furred Irish wolfhound, similar to Padfoot's own transformation, while Neville became a very large bear with brown fur.

"Grizzly," Hermione had announced.

"Why?" Harry had asked jokingly. "I think it's kinda cool." His mate then slapped his arm playfully, as the others groaned at his attempted humour.

Everyone had expected Susan's shape to be a badger, and they were a little startled at what she had become. Although similar to the badger, she was larger, with a more weasel-like snout and reddish-brown fur matching her hair, darkening to almost black at her paws. Her tail was longer than a badger's too, and fluffed out like a fox's, although not as long, only a third of her body-length. Even Hermione was puzzled.

It had been Harry who'd realised exactly what Susan must have been, not from books or schoolwork, but from Dudley's discarded comics, of all things. "She's a wolverine!" he'd whispered excitedly. "It's so her! Won't back down from _anything_, and quite happy to take on wolf-packs and bears to keep what belongs to it safe!"

Finally it had been the kitty couple's turn, and for one minute, the longest sixty seconds of the evening, their friends and the adults had found themselves sharing the room with two very large, black-furred, silver-striped tigers. Even a small tiger quickly becomes the focal point of attention if you're sharing space with it, and Harry and Hermione were _not_ small, easily being six or seven feet long, not counting the tail. At a guess, they weighed around six hundred pounds _at least_, and it would not have surprised anyone to have been guessing light.

At last, the kitty couple reverted to their smaller, more humanoid selves. Luna's comment pretty much summed up everyone's feelings: "That was just... awesome. Terrifying, but nonetheless awesome."

* * *

As their potions simmered that week, the felines and their friends went about their usual routines, although Gryffindor wasn't losing as many points in Potions as they usually did, and Slytherin was losing more, mostly due to the efforts of Draco Malfoy. As the blond boy kept attempting to sabotage Harry's potion from a distance, thankfully the cat-like reflexes Harry had always possessed, now augmented by his actually being part cat and therefore excellent at intercepting small, fast-moving objects, stood him in good stead.

Today, fed up with yet another attempt on his or Hermione's potion's, the catboy pushed his frustration into his magic and waved his hand at the incoming ingredient. With a whispered "Immobulus", he froze the offending projectile in place.

Severus Snape was getting fed up with his godson's unwillingness to learn. He was getting fair grades, that owed a lot more to intensive tutoring than to any native talent, and the plans the boy came up with were lacking anything resembling cunning. Draco wasn't the first boy to be sorted into the House of Snakes on pure ambition that he couldn't support, and Snape doubted he'd be the last.

"Mr Malfoy," he spoke in a cold, flat voice, "can you identify the substance that is currently suspended in flight between yourself and Mr Potter?" Draco shook his head. "Can anyone?" Predictably, Hermione's hand was raised, and Harry's also. Neville's was there, too, which surprised some, and it was that young man the Potions master called upon.

"It's a bubotuber pod, sir," Neville said, a little nervously. "When heated in a liquid, it has a distressing tendency towards exploding."

"10 points, Mr Longbottom. Ms Granger," Snape changed targets in the silence, caused by him _willingly _giving points to a _Gryffindor_ in a Potions class, "what are the effects of such an addition to the Elixir of Might we are supposed to be brewing today?"

As the more knowledgeable students went pale, Hermione answered the Potions master. "In addition to the explosion, which in this enclosed space would ensure that everyone _not_ immune to poisons would be affected, the bubotuber pod added at this stage would corrupt the elixir's intended effect, turning from something that grants great physical strength for a few hours, into something that drains it for the same period." Even those who weren't advanced students were deathly pale now. Although it _was_ hard to tell for the kitty couple, as their midnight-black fur got in the way. "The most probable effect in most situations would be death from heart failure as the body would lose even the strength to keep it beating. Luckily, Harry and I _are_ immune to such things, and would still be able to summon and render assistance." The silence in the room was deafening, and even Crabbe and Goyle were glaring at Draco Malfoy.

"There you have it, Mr Malfoy," Snape uttered after a few moments. "Were it not for the actions of Mr Potter, you would have endangered the entire class for an attempt at revenge that your targets wouldn't be affected by. I'm sorry, but you've gone too far. You are suspended from my classes until such time as you can control this pettiness. Even if that means you have to _repeat the year._"

As Snape's words finally penetrated the haze of thought, as he realised that he'd almost killed himself for an _ineffective_ revenge plan, the boy did the only thing he could. Draco fainted.

* * *

"I can't do it, Narcissa," Snape tried to explain to the woman across the desk from him. "Putting Draco anywhere near Potter or Granger would be like leaving a baby in a basilisk pit. If you want him to pass Potions at all, you simply have to get him a private tutor." He glared out the window at the Quidditch pitch, where the aforementioned felines were practising flying with the help of the Gryffindor team. As he did, the kitty couple switched brooms, by leaping to each others. They were only ten feet above the ground, so a fall wouldn't even have hurt them thanks to their feline instincts, but it was a moot point as they succeeded. Turning back to Draco's mother, he continued.

"My godson or not," he said, "he put every student's life at risk, as well as mine and his, for what? An attack that wouldn't even have any effect on the targets. He knew what they'd become, it was announced in the Great Hall at the Welcoming Feast this year. It was in the Daily Prophet _and_ the Quibbler, as well as Witch Weekly, of all things. He didn't even bother to research their capabilities before launching his 'master plan'. With no real intelligence on his foe, he very nearly put himself, as well as nearly every other student in that room, in the position of owing the Duati Bast'et a _life-debt_! Their knowledge grows by leaps and bounds, they have allies in the DMLE, despite the Ministry's general corruption, _and_, and this is the important part, they have earned my respect the hard way. Do you remember what I told your husband about his secrets?"

The seemingly sudden change in topics threw the Malfoy matron for a moment, but she quickly recovered, recalling the conversation in question. "Somewhat," she answered. "Didn't you tell him his Occlumency was lacking? That was the impression he gave."

"_Typical Lucius,_" Snape thought, "_always put the blame somewhere else._" Clearing his throat, he answered Narcissa. "I told him his secrets were safe from all but a handful of Legilimens, of which I was one. I went on to say that there were two people in the world who could keep me out when I wanted in: Dumbledore and Voldemort. Now, there are four, and just trying to touch the outer mindscape of these two felines is enough to trigger a migraine." As Narcissa gaped (she would deny it, of course, should he ever be so crass as to bring it up), he went on. "Their abilities are growing in leaps and bounds. He stopped that pod wandlessly. Draco is lucky to be alive, you know."

The sneer that marred Narcissa Malfoy's visage was an automatic response, he could tell her heart wasn't in it. She had heard from her husband about the basilisk last year. Not even Dumbledore could have taken the creature down, even with a phoenix to help him. Voldemort wouldn't have been able to kill it either, if he wasn't able to command snakes. Sighing, she made her choice. She didn't want to do this, but it looked like Lucius wish to send his son to Durmstrang was going to come true...

* * *

Saturday evening saw the seven friends once again in the DADA classroom, adding the last ingredient to the Marauder-version Animagus Elixir: a certain amount of their own hair with three drops of their own blood to bind it into the concoction. Before they drank, however, Harry made a suggestion.

"This is going to be a massive secret between us," he said, "so I think it's only fitting we do this in the Chamber." Hermione's nod backed him up. No-one wanted to miss out on seeing the legendary location, so there were no objections. Sneaking through the hallways to Myrtle's bathroom presented no great challenge, although Hermione had to ask Mrs Norris not to fetch Mr Filch when they ran into the caretaker's familiar.

Aside from Ginny, their friends had never seen the Chamber of Secrets, and the young Heliopath's memories were incredibly, and thankfully so, vague. Coming upon the basilisk's massive corpse, which had yet to begin to rot, unbelievably (although Professor Lupin explained that it had to do with the residual magic inherent in the flesh of the millennial creature, as well as it's poisonous _and_ venomous nature), had them all gobsmacked. The kitty couple had a puzzled look on their faces instead.

Sirius shook himself out of his canine form. "What's wrong, Harry? You look disappointed, somehow."

"It just looks smaller," said Harry. "When we fought it, it seemed much bigger, but I guess that's because it was moving."

Ginny had found the venom-blackened spot where Harry had 'killed' Riddle's diary. "Here," she announced. "I'm taking it here." Suiting words to actions, she downed her Elixir in one go. A quick burst of fire later, and her phoenix self had graced them with her presence. A few heavenly trills had them all smiling, and she transformed back and forth a few times to be sure it was working. The others followed suit, until all of them could become their animagus selves at will.

Sirius whistled as Luna, who'd gone last, returned to her human self. "We two are the last of a group called the Marauders," he spoke in a low voice that demanded attention. "In the last war against You-, I mean Riddle, we joined a group under Dumbledore that he named the Order of the Phoenix. Now the Marauders shall return..." He was cut off by Harry.

"With respect, Padfoot," the catboy said, " we aren't the Marauders. We aren't pranksters. But we wouldn't belong in any order either. If the rules don't work, why respect them?" He'd spoken at length with his mate about this over the intervening week, and her feline instincts won out over her ingrained human respect for authority after a lengthy battle. "We're a magical menagerie, covering the full array of Houses at Hogwarts, led by two cats. We aren't an order, we're a chaos. So I'd like to call to order the first meeting of the Chaos of the Tigers." He was hugged by Hermione when he finished, and he hadn't expected the applause that the others broke into.

"Very well, Harry," said Professor Lupin, "the first thing is names. Every animagus has an alternate name for their animal self. Your father was Prongs, and he became a stag, a twelve-pointer, if I recall. Padfoot here is a dog as you know. So we've been putting our heads together to come up with your alternate names." He handed the youth a piece of parchment, on which he'd written his suggestions, more than one for each of them. Harry was quickly appointed to make the final choices, as leader of their little band of 'heroes'.

"Alright, then," he began, " Ginevra Molly Weasley, you are now Skyfire. May your songs remind us of the right path to take, even when all is dark. Welcome to the Chaos." For an impromptu announcement, he'd managed to make it sound incredibly formal. He continued. "Luna Selene Lovegood, you are now Spiral. May you always keep our minds open to how much we don't know, even when we think we know enough. Welcome to the Chaos."

"Especially then," Luna replied.

"Neville Franklin Longbottom," Harry called, and his friend stepped forward. "You are now Grizzlegrim. May your heart guide us all in courage and friendship. Welcome to the Chaos."

He then introduced Susan, after which Ron was next, being named Firefetch, and admonished to show them all what true loyalty looked like, even in adversity. Then it was Daphne's turn, and she found herself dubbed Midnight, apparently for her scales, and asked to show that not all cunning or ambition was evil, a task she happily accepted. Finally it was Hermione's turn.

"Hermione Jean Granger, you are now Amber. May your hunt for knowledge ever be successful, and may that lore always be used to help others. Welcome to the Chaos." He hadn't even looked at the parchment's suggestions for her. He crouched and lifted Pakhet. "And you, Pakhet, are given honorary status as Toggletrust. Welcome to the Chaos."

His mate placed her hand on his shoulder, and as the others nodded, treated him to the same routine. "Harry James Potter, you are now Emerald. May your heart always know honour, trust and love, and may you lead us well, and to victory. Welcome to the Chaos." Then she hugged the living daylights out of him.

* * *

**Author's Note: **_I don't usually insert these notes as they can interfere with the flow of a story, but with all the reviews asking for her, I have to mention it. Susan's wolverine animagus form gets her own reveal in the early paragraphs of the next chapter. This was an intentional plot element (and highly effective, from what I've observed) linked to the interaction that will be taking place between the Chaos of Tigers and the DMLE. Further explanations in the next chapter. Hope you all enjoy it, this reveal has been in the works since I started writing the story. CuO (See you round)._


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

On a further Note, I also do not own _the Book of Night with Moon,_ which is only referenced here by part of the title, but better safe than sorry.

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "_Thoughts_"; _**Lingua Felinarum**_; {_Parseltongue_}.

Chapter 23: Everyone Wants to Make Their Mark

Susan Bones sat on the wooden chair in one of the abandoned classrooms not far from Professor Dumbledore's office. Her aunt, Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, had been in the castle today to deliver a statement declaring the results of Umbridge's trial. The horrible witch's guilt was a foregone conclusion. Not even her allies liked her. Her sentence was ten years in Azkaban, set that way due to mandatory sentencing laws for all cases involving Noble and Ancient Houses that, in a supremely ironic twist, the pink toad had pushed into legislation herself. After delivering such good news, Amelia was in such a good mood, she was more than happy to have a private lunch and chat with her niece.

As the older witch took her seat near her niece, Susan quickly rehearsed what she'd planned to say. None of it felt right, so she discarded the prepared speech wholesale, and simply began to talk. She was therefore the first student to receive the news of Umbridge's incarceration. The conversation turned to her life at school much more quickly than she'd hoped.

"So what have you been up to, dear?" her aunt queried. "Friends, classes, any problems? Or boys, that used to be a popular topic, I recall." As Susan blushed, Amelia chuckled.

"Auntie! Really! Nothing like that," the red-faced teenager said. "There is something I've done, well, me and a few friends have done. Have you heard of the Marauders?"

"Are those jackanapes still causing trouble? The membership must change over time then, they were causing quite the ruckus while I was at Hogwarts, and no-one really found out who they were." Amelia tapped her chin thoughtfully. "They were sort of heroes to some of us, mostly pranking bullies and bigots..." The look on her face as she let her voice trail off told Susan her aunt was reminiscing about something. She cleared her throat, bringing the older witch back to the present. "Sorry, yes, I've heard of them."

"How about the Order of the Phoenix," Susan asked.

"Dumbledore had a citizen's action group by that name in the last war, before Voldemort was killed. After that it was deemed unnecessary and disbanded," Amelia was getting quite curious now, it showed on her face. Susan knew her aunt, had she possessed the potential to be an animagus, would have been a panther, a combination of fierce hunter and playful cat. Alas, she didn't, although Amelia Bones had her own talents.

"Well, I know you won't have heard of this last one," the young red-head said quietly. "Recently, according to some, a group of students here have set up a group, not really organised or anything, just sharing a few beliefs and talents, and are calling themselves the Chaos of the Tigers." Taking a deep breath she took a risk. "They're all animagi."

You didn't get the job of being the head of the DMLE when you were a woman in a traditionally male profession without being at least twice as good a choice as the nearest male competition, and Madam Bones was particularly sharp. "You seem incredibly well-informed, Susan. Obviously they trust you, so why come to me with this?"

"Because Toggletrust says we can trust you, Auntie," Susan replied. As her aunt's eyebrow, the one without the monocle, rose towards her hairline, the young witch brought out a piece of parchment. "This is the names, both real and animagus, of the members of the Chaos. It's intended to be a sort of hidden register, so we, yes, I'm on there, too, have a sort of secret weapon until we need it, but someone in the political side of things can help us with avoiding the fines and prison time for being unregistered." Susan closed her eyes and waited. Luna had assured her this would be fine, that this course of action would help them. After she'd turned into one her 'imaginary' creatures, and after she'd announced Ginny to be another, she really wanted to believe her.

"Can you show me?" There was a soft _clunk_ and Susan opened her eyes to see her aunt place a portable pensieve on the desk. There was only one memory that she _knew_ had any chance of convincing her aunt. No-one else would have even gotten this far. Placing her wand to her temple, the red-head copied the memory of the impromptu induction ceremony. It was all or nothing. Fortunately, Sirius had not been in her field of vision for it, nor had he ever spoken during the spontaneously solemn scene.

Madam Bones watched the ceremony as Harry gave each new member their name, a general duty that seemed to be made for them, or that they seemed made for, it was hard to tell, and welcomed them. It was the section of ceremony pertaining to her beloved niece that had her full and undivided attention.

Harry had spoken with great dignity that would have seemed out of place were it not for his feline features. Nothing ruffled a cat's dignity, ever. "_Susan Amelia Bones,_" he had said. "_You are now Rumblerend. May you show us the way to strive our hardest, to never give up, to win regardless of the odds. Welcome to the Chaos._" After that, the rest of the ceremony played out, but some of Amelia's mind was firmly committing Susan's face when her friend, whom the world had called the Boy-who-lived, had spoken of her task, to her own memory. As the induction ended, and she swirled back out of the memory, she raised her face to her niece, tears of pride brimming in her eyes. " I'll help you. Please, show me Rumblerend."

* * *

As Ron and Luna sat in one corner of the library, playing Wizard's Chess to a draw over and over again, each delighted to find someone who could challenge them, Neville paced, absently reading his Herbology text. Hermione sat in 'her' corner of the room, surrounded by several books on Arithmancy and Runes, all of which she was reading, referencing them to each other. Harry was scribing a rune onto one of the many tiles in his kit. The other 'Chaotics', as they'd dubbed themselves, were engaged in varying projects. Hermione closed her book, a simple action that immediately claimed Harry's attention.

**Harry, I've got an idea,** she mewled. **I think I can create a functional runic system based in Felinarum. What do you think, is it worth it?**

Harry thought for a moment. **Better make that **_**we**_** can create it, Mai. Isn't that a Mastery-level project? We haven't even got our NEWTs in Ancient Runes yet. And then there's what we call it. I mean, it's definitely worth it, we'd have a written language no-one outside those we taught would have, but do you really think we can?**

Hermione's nod sealed it for him. He grinned. "Let's do it then." Turning to the rest of the group, he made the announcement. "Hey, guys and girls, listen to this. Hermione and I have decided on our Ancient Runes project. We're going to invent a new rune system, specifically for the feline language." Casting his mind through some of the books he'd read, he came up with a name for it. "The Ailurin system," he finished.

Hermione smiled warmly. "_Night with Moon_?" she said. "Thank you for reading it, Harry." It had been the first fiction book _she'd_ given him. He'd put aside the books her dad had given him to read, because she'd told him she enjoyed it.

Daphne spoke into the quiet that the announcement had caused. "You two don't think small, do you? Wait, was _that_ what you were mewling about?" As the felines nodded, she put her fingers to her temple, massaging as if she had a headache. "_That'll teach me not to jump to conclusions. Even with the time she's missed due to their 'adventures', Hermione's still the top student of our year," _She thought, "_and Harry can't be that far behind, or I doubt she'd be his friend._"

Hermione settled in next to Harry, calculating the Arithmantic formulae for her new runes, with Harry figuring out how the formulae applied to each rune's shape and effect. It was then that Susan arrived, and Luna looked up from her game with Ron.

"All good," the red-headed Hufflepuff declared. "Aunt Amelia said she'd hold our registry until it was needed, and the registration fees have gone through. We're _all_ free and clear on that front." She smiled. "She really likes Rumblerend for some reason..."

Harry nodded, as Hermione continued working. "Then it's time for the next stage. Daphne, can you do the honours? We really need to deal with that carcass, and I think a number of sets of Basilisk-hide clothes would be a wonderful thing for the Chaos. Almost a uniform if you will."

Daphne grinned. "I think we'll keep most of the 'fresh' hide for ourselves," she said. "We can still get plenty for the sheddings. That and the venom are probably going to be the best money-makers, and we'll hold back most of that. And the organs can be sold, lots of uses for those. Maybe sell the meat to the goblins?"

Harry thought for a moment, as Padfoot entered the room, much to Mrs Pince's dismay, although the black dog apparently had the utmost respect for the books (which he'd attributed to the caring guidance, and very heavy bookbag, of one Lily Potter, nee Evans). "No," the emerald-eyed catboy stated. "We'll give them some of the meat, as a gift between potential allies. That should give us some good reputation amongst them, tell them how much we value them. But we ask for nothing. Then when they ask where it came from, we can reveal the source and offer to let them buy it."

Sirius shifted back to his human form in a concealed nook, where no-one walking by could spot him casually. "That's pretty good strategy, Harry. Where'd you learn that trick?"

"Gripsack and Twist," the feline replied. Harry, and Hermione too, just couldn't get over the way the legal team's names made most people flinch in sympathy. "Gripsack taught us some of the more common points of goblin negotiation etiquette as part of our consultations. Seems to have come in handy."

Hermione had been paying attention with some of her mind as she finished the calculations for the first Ailurin rune: _Akhet_, three diagonal lines, crossed by three more. The resulting lattice made a good framework to attach other runes to, and the meaning she'd assigned to it, _harmony_, resulted in a rune to allow those runes to work together. "Harry," she interrupted the ongoing dialogue behind her, "can you inscribe this on a stone? I'm not sure what to use as an activating agent."

As Daphne left for the owlery, in order to make arrangements for the rendering of the basilisk, Harry turned to his mate. "How about like this?" Using his own claws, charged with the acidic venom that they possessed, he swiped twice at the stone,, lightly, but empowering the strikes with his own magic. As he retracted his claws, everyone could feel the rune's power, almost singing to them, asking them to work together, like a pride of lions on the hunt.

* * *

Amelia Bones looked down at the small calling card in her hand, then to the caged, and rather frantic, rat on her desk. The card read simply "To Madam Bones, head of the DMLE, Greetings. We of the Chaos of the Tigers support your work in the quest for justice in a system that seems determined to stamp it out. To that end we present you with a gift: the rat in this cage is an unregistered animagus. The cage is unbreakable, and the lock is keyed to the blood in the vial with this card." Said vial was at the _opposite_ end of her desk from the cage. "We believe you will need veritaserum to get any believable answers from this person, as he has fooled a great many people for a long time. His answers, once they can be assured to be true, should help you in a case you have recently opened. It is our pleasure to be of service, Amber and Emerald." the signatures of every member of the Chaos, including Moony and Padfoot followed. There was even a pawprint for Toggletrust, beneath which her name was neatly written. Shaking her head as she grinned like a Cheshire Cat, Amelia Bones threw open her door.

"Shacklebolt!" she roared. "Get me Tonks and Moody! One of our cases may have just broken!"

* * *

Draco Malfoy stepped out of the floo into the Durmstrang entrance hall. He strode with the air of a new lordling, certain of his dominance over all he surveyed. The first girl he ordered to fetch the headmaster punctured that belief, and finding out that he was responsible for his own gear shredded it. Learning that there were no house-elves in the austere, almost classically Spartan castle that served as the school was another blow to Draco's ego, discovering he couldn't bribe others to do his chores for him was worse. Determined that his father would hear of this, he then found that he had not earned the privilege of using a school owl. It would be a long year for Draco Abraxus Malfoy...


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "_Thoughts_"; _**Lingua Felinarum**_; {_Parseltongue_}.

Chapter 24: The Lions are Tigers and Bears... Oh My!

Care of Magical Creatures, with Hagrid as Professor, turned out worse than any of the friends were expecting. The giant-blooded man had the thought that hippogriffs were a good way to break third-years in gently to the idea of respecting magical beasts. If it hadn't been for two small facts, he might even have been right. Fact One: Hippogriffs don't like large cats, such as lions and tigers and the like. Fact Two: Harry and Hermione were large cats, not unlike lions or tigers.

It was a minor disaster. With Slytherin grouped with Gryffindor for the class, it could have been worse, but Draco had been pulled from the school by his parents, and according to the rumours, shipped off to Durmstrang where he was going to become a powerful Dark Wizard...

Even without him, the hippogriffs refused to bow to the kitty couple, who fortunately didn't push the issue. They _knew_ the kind of damage claws could do, even if they weren't venomous. So Hermione and Harry spent most of that lesson reading up on their Arithmancy texts. Harry was pleasantly surprised that he could not only keep up with Hermione here, but that the two of them were finished the text _and_ the practice questions within by the end of the lesson. They were _really _looking forward to tomorrow's class...

* * *

The Great hall was mobbed by a whole parliament of postal owls delivering the Daily Prophet, which boldly declared the trial of one Peter Pettigrew, and the innocence of Sirius Black. With his good name cleared, and his physical and mental well-being vouched for by Madam Pomfrey, the former fugitive stepped out into the limelight, insisting upon full reparations for wrongful imprisonment and a formal apology. The apology was printed a week later, although Fudge strived mightily, with the connivance of Lucius Malfoy, to delay the inevitable payment into the Black coffers. He then ventured to Hogwarts, although most of the wizarding nation had no idea he was actually going _back_. Upon arrival he immediately sought out his godson.

Finding the kitty couple curled up together on the couch, he grinned. They were taking a quick catnap, recovering from their previous class, Astronomy the night before. As the canine animagus approached, their ears flicked in his direction and they each opened one eye.

"Harry, my boy!" Sirius called happily. "Hermione, Kitten, lovely hairstyles, both of you." He received a glare from each of them for that. Becoming Duati Bast'et had apparently done nothing for the untamable nature of their hair. Any children they had were doomed.

"Hey, Sirius," the catgirl murmured, as the two feline teens sat up a little, although they remained pressed as close as they could, each with their chin on the other's shoulder as they inhaled the scent that made them each so special to the other. "What brings you here? Did Dumbledore offer you a job?"

Eyeing the way the two of them were acting, the Lord of the House of Black paused. "Should I come back later? You two seem rather... cosy."

Harry answered this time. "It wouldn't help. We've figured this out, it's my Mai's heat cycle. Each month there's a swell in our feline sides' emotions that Madam Pomfrey's potions suppress so that we can function normally, but we still have to stay close to each other, or we start trying to climb out of our skins with anxiety."

Sirius sat on a chair near their couch. "Why do I feel like there's a rather oversized 'but' tacked onto that statement?" he asked rhetorically.

Harry grinned at the Marauder, his godfather, as His mate took up the conversation. "There is one," she admitted, "and it's quite the problem. You see, roughly every four months, there's a surge if you will, that even the potions can't suppress completely. Valentine's Day last year was the first inkling we had of it. Then there was the time at my parents' house this summer just gone..."

Harry chimed in. "Thank Merlin for _reparo_ spells, or they'd have needed new doors." Hermione ran her fingers up his spine, causing him to both stop talking and start purring, before she continued.

"From what I've been able to determine, the cycle peaks again on Halloween, give or take a day or two. We don't know how long we can, er, hold out, if you understand..." Her voice trailed off as her tail began to slowly move from side to side, and Harry's feline instincts had him trying to catch it without moving from Hermione's shoulder.

"A serious business," said the scruffy-haired Lord Black, "sorry for any pun that may sound like." He wasn't laughing. "If we can come back to this later, then I'd better get what I'm here about out of the way. Yes, Hermione, the Headmaster has offered me a job. I'm to be teaching a new extra-curricular course preparing witches and wizards from less-privileged homes for our society. Call it a Social Awareness course. But before I go up to his office to accept, I have a bit of House business to discuss with Harry. Do you mind if we take this to the Chamber?"

* * *

With the assistance of Dobby and a few other house-elves, the Chamber of Secrets was undergoing redecoration. The first thing they'd done was to remove what was left of the basilisk's carcass. The rendering process, while messy, had been over with quickly, or relatively so. It was sixty-two and a half feet long, after all. Next, the large pool of water in front of Salazar Slytherin's statue was cleaned, a hefty undertaking that had the Dobby and his cohorts overjoyed, as no-one had even thought of cleaning it for the past thousand years. Torches would have been a bad idea down here, so Hermione and Harry put their heads together with Daphne, and came up with some rune-scribed crystals that gave off a decent light until deactivated. Then they'd brought furniture in, nothing fancy, just comfortable. Since each person had a slightly different definition of comfort, this resulted in a distinctly eclectic look to the resulting lair.

As Harry and Sirius sat down, Hermione wandered over to Slytherin's statue, and hissed the phrase that Harry had told her would open the hidden passage behind it. They'd found a library back there, and she was off to catalogue which texts were irredeemably Dark, and which were not. There was also a potions laboratory, as well as a workbench for Runes, which Daphne was using to enchant the light-giving crystals for the house-elves to place around the castle, a steady process that had Mr Filch scratching his head and muttering. Still, he didn't have to change the expired torches anymore, so...

"Harry, pup, no that just seems wrong, and she's the kitten. Oh, well, I'll figure it out later," Sirius said, a little nervously. "Your father asked me to look after you, to care for you as my own, if anything happened to him and your mum." The older animagus was holding back tears, Harry could tell. "I'm sorry I failed you. I thought you'd be safe while I made sure Peter was caught, and then he framed me and I lost you for years. Can you ever forgive my mistakes?"

Harry looked at the wizard before him, feigning a cold and haughty demeanour, such as he'd seen Draco using every day until recently. "It is not possible to forgive you, Lord Black," he declared, watching as Sirius' shoulders slumped downwards. "I don't feel you've done anything that needs it." _Now_ he dropped the act, and hugged his godfather, enjoying the shock and joy that spread across the man's face.

"You... you... Harry James Potter! Did _you_ just prank _me_?" Sirius demanded. At the catboy's unrepentant grin and nod, he chuckled. "Okay, that's good, shows there is a bit of James in there. Now look, there's a bunch of formal language I could couch this in, but I'm just going to lay it all down for you." He drew a breath, released it, drew another. "Harry, for both our Houses, I would like to formally adopt you."

Harry's reaction brought every Chaotic in the Chamber running, a massive roar of joy and triumph that echoed up into the school, where Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott and the eternal minions, Crabbe and Goyle, shivered as though someone walked on their graves. When every one had settled down, Harry calmed enough to ask why.

"You know how Dementors drain happiness from you and feed on it?" Sirius replied. "It's documented as such, and seems to be so, and no, nobody knows why the Patronus, which is joy and happiness in a pure magical form drives them off. Well, if someone is exposed to the things over an extended time, say around five years or more, they start devouring any potential for happiness, as well. Since nothing brings someone as much joy as the day they hold their child, the foul things remove all potential for children. Men become sterile, women barren, over a period of months. While in most cases, it's possible to recover, in greatly extended cases, where the exposure is for more than ten years, give or take a few months, the effects are... permanent. I'm never going to be able to hold my own child, Harry. I'm the last of the House of Black." Sirius was weeping, now, and as Harry and his mate watched, the Grim animagus started to truly grieve for the children unborn that he'd never know, with great, wracking sobs.

Glancing at Hermione, Harry acted on his instincts, which were serving him in better and better stead as he became more used to his feline nature. Hermione and he moved as one to embrace the sobbing man, hugging him tight and purring to soothe him.

* * *

It took a long time, thirty minutes or more, for Sirius to calm enough to continue. Smiling apologetically at the felines, he straightened. Harry looked him over, and saw a stronger man than most, to feel such grief and go on anyway. "Sirius," he nearly whispered, his voice was that quiet, "I would be proud to be your son. I have two conditions, though." He paused, and Sirius indicated he was paying attention. "First, you have to be at least neutral to Professor Snape. He was, reluctantly I admit, a great help to us with Occlumency and our early stages of the transformation. I'm not saying you have to suddenly become his best friend, or not call him on his..." A quick glance at Hermione changed what he was about to say. "... pretensions, but at least try to get along with him."

"That's quite the condition, Harry," Sirius admitted, "but I'm willing to do it. What's the rest?"

"That's actually easier," Harry said, looking around at the other Chaotics. They'd formed a circle with Harry and Sirius in the middle, and Professor Lupin was nudged into the centre with them. Harry drew himself up, and spoke in a formal-sounding voice.

"We, the gathered members of the Chaos of the Tigers, are all agreed?" Harry asked, and received nods from everyone. "Then I, Mr Emerald, call upon Miss Amber to stand forth and proclaim."

Hermione extended her hands towards the Marauders. "You are Padfoot," she said, inclining her face towards Sirius. "I charge you with the care of the group, as a father would care for his own. Welcome to the Chaos." Turning to the DADA professor, she continued. "You are Moony. I call upon you to teach us as no other can, to see what we _want_ to be, instead of what others would have us be. Welcome to the Chaos."

"The list we left with Susan to take to her aunt is self-updating, thanks to Hermione's brilliant work. Anyone we admit to the Chaos is automatically signed onto the scroll," Harry told the two shocked adults. "Oh, and by the way, you can't say no. That's the condition."

* * *

That night was a full moon, and the werewolf called Moony spent it as he had in the past, with his friend at his side. Truth be told, the canine animagus was laughing his arse off at Moony's predicament. While the wolfhound, the snorkack, the cobra and the phoenix were watching, any violent tendencies the werewolf was prone to were obviated by the other animagi: Two huge tigers, a grizzly bear and a wolverine were more than enough to hold him down whenever he seemed about to hurt himself...


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "_Thoughts_"; _**Lingua Felinarum**_; {_Parseltongue_}.

Chapter 25: In the Forests of the Night...

The adoption of Harry Potter by Sirius Black was big news, and the Daily Prophet made the most of it, speculating on the many reasons why it might have happened. None even came close to the truth. By inducting the Marauders into the Chaos, Harry was showing them how much they meant to him. Almost unnoticed, in a tiny article on a page near the back, they ran the story of another escape from Azkaban, this time of two prisoners, by the names of Pettigrew and Umbridge...

* * *

The week leading up to Halloween was a trying time for the Chaotics, as Harry and Hermione became more... physically demonstrative than usual. It was somehow stronger than they'd thought it would be, and Remus installed two werewolf containment cages in the Chamber of Secrets, at Harry's request and with Daphne's assistance, as her cobra form was the only way to open the Chamber without the kitty couple. On the fateful day, after the feast, with Harry and Hermione almost yowling to each other, the felines confined themselves. The locks and the cages were strong enough to withstand a berserk werewolf, so the Chaos as a whole had faith their friends would be fine that night.

Daphne and Ginny entered the Chamber the next morning, to bring their feline friends up to breakfast, only to see the bars on the matching sides of each cage twisted and torn free of their brackets. As Ginny flared out to raise the alert with the other Chaotics, Daphne looked over the cages, finding only scraps of cloth that used to be Hogwarts robes.

* * *

Harry opened his eyes to sunlight, hearing and feeling the purring of the warm, fur-covered body before him, pressed against him in a most intimate manner, and barely had time to notice his own purring, as his mate rocked herself back against him, driving him deeper into both her and his own instincts, and the world went away in a wash of pleasure and warmth and black-furred wonder...

Their cries, roars of triumph and joy, spread throughout the Forbidden Forest, causing centaurs to pause in their daily business, and the acromantula colony to shiver in their collective webs. It was heard in the Black Lake, far beneath the surface where the merfolk dwelt, and in the castle where Severus Snape started awake from a sound slumber, and Pakhet, the kneazle kitten who stayed with 'Aunt Minnie' the previous night, sighed happily. Mama and Papa must be so happy now, she purred to no-one in particular, and she wandered down to the front doors of the castle.

The Chaotics heard the noise, and went to find their friends, although Ginny flared to and from Gryffindor Tower to get some new robes for the kitty couple, their previous pair having been shredded. As they entered the forest, with Hagrid's guidance, they heard the roars again, and before anyone could do or say anything Ginny had flared ahead. Only to return a few moments later, with her face rapidly becoming an even brighter red than the feathers that served her as hair.

"Umm, I... I don't think we need to go over there right, now," she blurted, flustered by what she had seen. "I don't think anything is going to, umm, interrupt their, er, _personal _time."

Daphne looked carefully at the twisted metal bar, one end badly scored by acid, magic and claws, and spoke idly. "I guess we need a stronger cage," she mused, and Professor Lupin nodded.

"Something that would hold a Gryffin, I think," he said by way of agreement. "So, do we draw straws or play scissors-paper-rock?"

"What? Why would we need to do that?" Ron asked as _another_ roar rumbled over them instereo.

Remus Lupin smirked. "Someone has to go cast an _aguamenti _on them."

No-one wanted to be part of that, for some reason.

* * *

It was almost evening when an embarrassed, yet very satisfied, pair of felines made it back to the school doors, followed by their friends, who teased the kitty couple in a good-humoured manner. Greeted as they were by a concerned Minerva McGonagall and Poppy Pomfrey, as well as a blatantly _un_concerned Pakhet, the two catfolk lashed their tails nervously, waiting for the talking-to they were certain they'd be receiving.

"Mr Potter," Professor McGonagall began, "I see you may need stronger precautions. Next time, please feel free to ask my assistance in such matters. You are my lions after all, I'm supposed to be looking out for you." As she turned to leave, they heard her muttering to herself, although it was doubtful anyone else, even within the Chaos could. "Such stamina the young have..."

Madam Pomfrey hustled Hermione off to the hospital wing, with harry in tow for a thorough check-up, and Pakhet clambered up 'Papa Harry's' robes to sling herself over his shoulder. _**Pity, **_she mewled._**If it had taken, I could have been a big sister... Maybe next time...**_

It was just as well he fainted this close to the hospital wing, so Madam Pomfrey could treat his concussion more easily.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was making a list. Here, in the blistering chill of Durmstrang, he had found himself the bottom man on the ladder, and with no way to complain to his father, he'd had no way to command his 'lessers'. Crabbe and Goyle had not been expelled from Hogwarts, so he didn't even have physical guards any more, and it only took a few 'lessons, each resulting in a three day hospital stay, which didn't excuse him from schoolwork unless he was clinically unconscious, as pronounced by Healer Schwartzblut, for the Malfoy heir to get the message. Here, he wasn't someone's nemesis, he wasn't anywhere near the top of the class. In fact, he was irrelevant. He didn't matter. If he wanted something, he had to _shudder_ earn it. Hence, his list of things he felt Potter had caused. The only problem was, away from his father's influence, he was actually forced to learn, to make his own decisions, to get by on his own merits. So, when the time came, should he try to kill Potter, or should he thank him?

* * *

Over the course of the next few months, the Chaos settled into a routine, if not exactly a predictable one. Each of them brought their own skills to the group, and with the adults around them, made firm their friendships with each other. Daphne in particular had more trouble than the others, as Pansy Parkinson did her level best to take over from the absent Draco Malfoy, even to having Crabbe and Goyle as her bodyguards now. The Greengrass heir was fortunate in her friends within Slytherin, as Tracey Davis and Blaise Zabini could see the benefits of having friends like Harry and the rest of the Chaos, and there was a fragile stalemate in the House of Snakes as a result.

Other developments were the burgeoning relationships of others, and on the Hogsmeade weekends, the kitty couple watched as Neville nervously requested Susan to join him. It was somewhat of a point of pride within the group that they didn't ever set foot inside the artificial, almost saccharine sickly-sweetness that was Madam Puddifoots, preferring the warm congeniality of the Three Broomsticks, or the private magic of a new coffee shop and tea house, run by a witch that Jacan Vaughn and his twin Drefan claimed as their big sister Morgan. The Cosy Cauldron was more interested in low-key and subtle comfort, rather than the forced romantic atmosphere of their competition.

With Ron in the castle playing wizard's chess against Luna, this left Ginny at somewhat of a loose end. She wished _she_ had someone to love like Hermione had Harry, and recognized a fair amount of jealousy that the catgirl had the boy upon whom the red-headed witch had had a crush for the longest time. Yet Ginny was growing up. She came to the conclusion that not only was Hermione good for Harry, challenging him to better himself, but that Harry was also good for Hermione, gently bringing the feline witch out of a friendless shell and out where the others could appreciate her. But more often than not, this left the Luna-declared heliopath with no real company... except Daphne.

* * *

Christmas holidays arrived before any of them realized the time had passed so quickly, and the various families set out for home. Harry and Sirius had been invited to the Grangers' for the holidays, and it was on Christmas morning that Harry received the documents that made him Harry Potter-Black. It was a very tearful, yet overjoyed young man that hugged Sirius, and then Hermione hugged him as well.

Hermione was surprised when Harry asked everyone to the Grangers' back yard, where he nodded to Sirius. As the canine animagus used his wand to shift the snow into an ornate arch, Harry turned to his mate. Leading her beneath the arch, he began to speak.

"Mai, love," he began nervously, although he gained in confidence as he went on, "I know we're very young, but I've been listening to both my inner cat as well as my heart, and I know what I'm feeling... at last. I didn't recognise it for the longest time, because I hadn't really felt it since before that Halloween, long ago. I know I have your parents' blessing to do this, and I know that people will say we don't understand what we're doing, but I give you this ring in token of the ones I want to give you later, as a promise that, should you let me, I will ask you to be my bride." Looking up at Sirius and the Grangers, he received three nods as he lifted his wand before him. "I, Harry James Potter-Black of the Houses of those names, Duati Bast'et and wizard, do hereby pledge upon my magic that I will ask your hand in marriage once I am an adult, taking no other of my free will, in this life or any other. As I say, so mote it be."

The flare of golden light and the formal language inspired Hermione, she _had_ to respond, and raising her wand, she spoke. "I, Hermione Jane Granger, Duati Bast'et and witch, do hereby pledge upon my magic to accept that proposal on the day you ask it, taking no other of my free will, in this life or any other. As I say, so mote it be."

This time the golden fare of magic was stronger, and formed a halo about the feline couple for the next hour, during which they were inseparable. Sirius, although he didn't show it, was a little worried at the extra words Harry had added to the promise oath, and Hermione's perfect, unscripted response was beyond anything he was ready to guess at. He really needed to talk to Moony...

* * *

In the murky depths of Knockturn Alley, two reluctant companions glared at their newly acquired paperwork. The man now had the identity of Klaus Siegel, a travel writer heading for the magical sites of Albania. He didn't much like Albania, but he'd liked Azkaban even less. His female counterpart, now going by Dolly Redford, was a part of the Accidental Magical Reversal Squad, or would be just long enough to get inside the Ministry and be keyed to control the Dementors. This was the price of their liberty, they'd been told by the masterminds behind their escape. Fail, and... well, it wouldn't be pretty. It might even give a Dementor nightmares...


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "_Thoughts_"; _**Lingua Felinarum**_; {_Parseltongue_}.

Chapter 26: Whatever We Will, Will Be.

Returning to Hogwarts after the break brought changes. Among them was the fact that Pansy Parkinson _tried_ to take over Draco's role as the de facto leader of her year, with Crabbe and Goyle recruited as bodyguards once more, but she ran into the solid wall of the Slytherin 'Ice Queen' and her disdain.

"You're a fool, Parkinson," Daphne said. "There is no way on this earth that you could ever match up to, say, Bellatrix LeStrange, nor are you close to cunning enough to match most of that circle. You _do _understand that the best position most purebloods offer a woman is on her back, don't you? I for one have greater ambition than to be some fool's baby-maker." Pointing across the Great Hall, Daphne indicated the feline couple. "Do you see Granger over there? Look at her, really look at her. You see, what she is isn't because she's a newblood, halfblood or pureblood. Certainly she's not human any more, but that wasn't something she chose. The young man beside her _chose_ to not leave her alone, he _chose _to be right there with her, feeling as she felt. Over Christmas break, they _chose _each other, _again_, with a pledge that shone _gold_." There were gasps from the listeners who understood _exactly_ what that meant, and the Ice Queen continued. "_That _is what I want, Parkinson, someone who completes me, not someone who belittles me. Someone who, if I told them I wanted to reshape the world, would roll up their sleeves and grab a shovel to help, rather than list the reasons it can't be done. I plan to be Minister of Magic someday, and _that's _not going to happen if all I can do is grovel at someone else's feet."

"Like Potter's?" Pansy sneered, desperate to strike a blow, to turn this sudden rout around. She was the centre of attention at the Slytherin table now, but it didn't seem as good as she'd imagined. Rather than admiration, she was attracting... pity.

"You just don't get it, do you?" Daphne mused aloud. "The very fact that he doesn't demand we follow him is why we do. He isn't out for power, and he really doesn't want it... but that's why he's the one I'd trust with it. Tell me, if Draco had the kind of following Harry has attracted, what would he do with it. If it had been _you_ petrified or in the chamber last year, what would your precious boyfriend have done?" She didn't leave time for Pansy to answer, which was just as well, as the whole house already knew how _that _one would've ended. "Well, let me tell you, Harry faced a basilisk down there. Over sixty feet of pure death, if you go by everything normal wizards and witches know. He did that because it hurt his friend's little sister. It still almost killed her. It tried to hurt Hermione. They both saw it, both faced it. What would Draco have done? Because those two over there faced it, fought it _and killed it._ The girl you call 'mudblood' is _the _highest ranked in all her classes, and her boyfriend's not far behind her, yet instead of being in Ravenclaw where all the smart people go, they're in Gryffindor, which says they have _more_ bravery than brains, and that's a scary thought right there. Do you get it yet? No? Maybe you should think about it somewhere quiet." With those words, Daphne left the table and headed for the first class of the day. If she could just get them thinking, maybe she could save Slytherin House...

* * *

Divination could definitely use a better teacher, Ron was certain. With the new outlook on life he'd picked up thanks to his best friends, he'd begun applying himself harder in all his classes, and although he was nowhere near as clever as they, he was managing steady 'E's. There were only two exceptions, Potions, where he struggled to stay in the higher 'A' grade, and this class. Carefully reading _Unfogging the Future_ hadn't helped much, and Trelawney's explanations only served to further muddle the matter. She kept going on about the 'Sight' and the 'Gift', and Ron realized if you didn't have one or the other, the best you could get from this class was an hour's kip. Still, if he heard her bemoaning his best friends' doom, as she interpreted any omen as directed at the Boy-who-lived, regardless that he wasn't even taking the class, then he might very well get Fred and George to spike her sherry.

As he clambered up the ladder that led to her classroom, he pondered the sudden impulse that had him stopping by the Hospital Wing beforehand to ask for a basic first-aid kit, with a dose or two of calming draughts and pain-relief potions thrown in. It was as he was setting his bag down by his chair that the true impact of what he'd done would make itself known. Tracy Davis from Slytherin was off to one side, concentrating on her book, when Lavender Brown walked in with Parvati Patil, gesturing wildly as she spoke, not looking around. Her hand crunched loudly as it came into contact with one of the many crystal balls around the room, and her yelp of pain cut off whatever conversation she'd been carrying on as she pulled her hand in close. The crystal ball, supplied with enough of a nudge, rocked back, and then forwards, out of its cradle.

It was later agreed by all that there was no way for Ron to have seen what the large orb of smoky crystal was about to do from where he had been. Nevertheless, as the ball rolled completely off its stand and began descending towards Tracy's head, as Daphne entered the room, they saw Ron almost leap across the room, pulling the Slytherin girl from her chair, but as she wasn't aware of why he was doing this, she struggled, and Ron fell into her place, twisting as he landed with his leg directly under the descending ball of glass.

The loud crack as his leg snapped had everyone's attention, and Ron fumbled out the first-aid kit, downing the first pain-relief potion and tossing the other to Parvati for Lavender. Then he passed out.

* * *

Waking in the Hospital Wing was no fun. "_Mental note, apologise to Harry for teasing him about extra kips in these beds,_" he mused, the dull ache in his leg distracting him. A quick look around showed his friends nearby. Harry and Hermione were in a chair on his left, snuggled and purring, a comforting sound that he had to admit felt right. On the bedside table was a familiar-looking Wizard's Chess set, and a scrawled note in Luna's hand that proclaimed it to be his move. On his right was a certain Slytherin Chaotic, who even as he watched, opened her eyes. Glancing over at the kitty couple, he noted they were asleep.

"Thank you, Ron," Daphne said, totally confusing him. He had no idea why she'd be thanking him, and when she rose and hugged him, all thought just shut down.

"B-b-buh," he mumbled eloquently, "froo-fah-wah-sah-gong?" He didn't struggle, Daphne was a very pretty girl, after all, but he did try to convey his total lack of understanding. Somehow, he got the point across.

Daphne released him from the embrace, an odd smile on her usually frozen face. "Tracy has been my best friend for years, Firefetch, and if you hadn't saved her, that globe would have landed on her head. On top of that you had that first aid kit, which reminds me... everyone, including Madam Pomfrey, wants to know why you asked for it. No-one's angry or anything, but they... including _me_... are wondering why you wanted it today of all days. Well?"

Ron thought hard. "I don't know," he answered quietly after a time. "It was an impulse. I mean, there's all these little things that added up to it, I can see the... path? I can see it all laid out _now._ Lavender's been going off all day about Harry and Hermione being out of the dorms so often lately, and you _know_ how Trelawney's got her room set up, very good atmosphere, lousy safety precautions. I thought it was a 'just-in-case' thing at the time, but I'm starting to wonder if maybe I _am_ in the right class..." His voice drifted off.

"When you figure it out, let me know, okay?" Daphne's smile, he realized, was quite warm, and he idly wondered how anyone could possibly think her cold enough to be ice, as she continued. "Your brothers are a little upset at the moment, too."

That caught his attention. "What? Why?"

"They don't think they can top the Headmaster announcing that Divination classes are cancelled due to unforeseen circumstances."

* * *

Ron's stay in Madam Pomfrey's care was short, lasting only the night, so he still needed to go to classes the next day. The days rolled by, there were half-hearted attempts from the Slytherins who still hated Harry, mostly spear-headed by Pansy, and Theodore Nott. It was the next day, first day of February, that Harry actually did something about it. Waiting until the right time was essential, but as Nott stood and approached with Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle, he decided that was now. It would have been even better in the Great Hall, but just after Charms would have to do.

"Well, Potter, Granger, why are two abominations still in the halls?" Nott asked in a voice that carried very well indeed.

Harry pretended to think for a moment. "I don't know," he mused aloud, and turned to the two bulkier Slytherins. No-one, not even his friends, with the possible exception of his mate, expected the next words out of his mouth. "Vincent, Gregory, why _are_ Parkinson and Nott still in the halls?"

At the puzzled looks on the faces of Crabbe and Goyle, as well as the rage building on the faces of Pansy and Theodore, the students around them had trouble keeping their laughter on the inside, a battle they all lost at Crabbe's hesitant reply. "Because they have to wear a steak suit and ketchup in a dragon's lair?" Large as they were, it was now obvious that Crabbe at least, was cunning enough to see a winning side, and apparently to hide his own intelligence. Then things began to go wrong.

Theodore Nott was the Scion and Heir of his House. He'd been spoiled, but also taught strictly, a horrible combination for any child, but even worse for the son of a Death Eater. He now had a towering sense of self-importance, and an equally immense horror of failing. That was all he could see as the people around him laughed at him. He didn't see that his fellow Slytherins weren't laughing, and neither were the feline couple. He couldn't tell what had gone wrong. "_How did Draco do this, day in, day out?_" he wondered as the anger pushed all thought aside.

His wand was in his hand and he was screaming something he didn't understand as he lashed his wand towards the first target that presented itself. Nothing would hurt Potter as much as hurting his girlfriend, and so that was where the rage-addled boy directed his curse and hatred, not thinking clearly enough to realise the consequences of his actions. "CRUCIO!"

Harry saw the sickly yellow light of the Unforgivable as it moved towards Hermione, and moved, much as she herself had begun to do. Even with their unearthly reflexes, she would not have made it had he not taken her place, planting his own body squarely between her and the spell. As it struck, he continued in motion, slashing his claws across Nott's chest even as Hermione grabbed his wand, causing the Slytherin to collapse screaming with agony. Even as the pain finally made its presence known and Harry began blacking out, having been screaming himself and not noticing it, he saw the anger filled face of his beloved mate as she turned to the fallen Slytherin, and gasped out a handful of words as the darkness of unconsciousness beckoned.

"He's... never... worth... it... m'love..." With that, the blackness rose up and took him.


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "_Thoughts_"; _**Lingua Felinarum**_; {_Parseltongue_}.

Chapter 27: Cry Havoc...

Harry woke to a familiar and welcome warmth pressed against his side, along with the soft rumble of his mate's purring and the jangling sensation in his nerves that he guessed was the after-effects of his encounter with the Cruciatus curse. He really hadn't thought Nott would go that far... The boy was dangerous, not to mention the fact that he knew the spell at all, let alone that he was willing to use it. As he opened his eyes, he caught sight of the ever efficient Madam Pomfrey, and knew exactly where he was.

"You know what, Madam Pomfrey?" he inquired as she reached his bedside, looking down at Hermione's furry form snuggled against him with a look that said she was clearly perplexed as to _how _Miss Granger came to be there. "As often as I've been in this bed, you could probably add a brass plate with the tally and auction it off for a small fortune." He winced as he sat up, dislodging the bushy-haired catgirl from his shoulder. As Hermione yawned and stretched, a sight which did 'terrible but great' things to his insides, the medi-witch smiled.

"You, Mr Potter, are one very lucky boy," she stated firmly. "If Mr Nott over there," she waved her hand at a bed on the opposite side of the ward which had two Aurors next to it, "had been any more skilled with that vile curse, you would have a far longer recovery than this." She cast several diagnostic charms as she went on. "If you'd been fully human, you'd have shrugged that horrible spellwork off easily. The boy should not have been able to do more than make you itch. It seems that a combination of his desire to hurt _you_ through harming Miss Granger and your own nerves, which transmit far faster and more efficiently than a humans can, conspired against you. You'll always have a particularly hard time of it with that curse, and since you fought through it rather than let it flow, it caused even more pain than it otherwise would. Now..."

She was cut off as another Auror burst into the room, waving a piece of parchment in his left hand and brandishing his wand in his right. "Mr Potter, you are under arrest for the assault of Theodore Zachary Nott," roared John Dawlish, who then promptly hurled a Stunning Curse at Harry. The curse spent itself on the pillow Hermione threw in its path as she pulled her own wand out. Dawlish had a glazed look about his eyes, she saw, although exactly what that meant, she didn't know. Not knowing _anything_ was a major source of annoyance for her, and as Dawlish, believing his first spell to have been enough, lowered his wand, even as the pillow exploded in a cloud of feathers, she hurled a spell of her own in return. "Incarcerus!"

The ropes that bound Dawlish were a little tight, owing to her emotional state. The two Aurors guarding the young Nott's bed had both stood, and the larger of the two, a big black fellow named Kingsley Shacklebolt, had his wand aimed at the boy lying there, who although he occasionally twitched in pain, didn't wake. The other was a trainee, a young woman with bubblegum-pink hair who almost stumbled into the central aisle between the beds. Something Tonks was her name, Hermione recalled vaguely, then remembered the woman's first name, mostly due to the fuss she kicked up about hating the name 'Nymphadora'. Kneeling, the bright-haired Auror checked the man on the floor.

"Imperiused, Shack," she called to her partner. "Five galleons to fifteen Malformed's got an alibi, too." The swelling of the blond man's jaw had never gone down after Amelia Bones had broken it, and the new nickname had stuck. Picking up the parchment, she gave it a once-over. "False arrest papers, someone wanted the Ministry at war with Potter over this."

* * *

Tonks asked to use Madam Pomfrey's floo, then headed off in the direction of the medi-witch's office. As she did, Madam Pomfrey turned once again to the kitty couple. "As I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted," she said. "Now how did you get on that bed without me noticing, Miss Granger?"

Hermione smiled, a sheepish grin. "I went barefoot and used a Schroedinger Charm," she answered. She snuggled next to Harry once more and resumed purring, managing to speak as she did. "Did you know that muggle doctors did a study and found that patients with a purring cat recovered quicker?" Seeing the sceptical look on Madam Pomfrey's face, she continued quickly. "Honest, I'm not making it up. Apparently the cat's purr made them want to feel better, and where the mind led, the body followed."

The older witch glared at the young feline. "Interesting. And you bring this up _now_ out of pure benevolence? Somehow I think your ulterior motive is showing. I'll let it pass this once." Now she turned to the catboy. "Mr Potter, no-one has any right to blame or attack you for what happened, but your claws did a lot more than simply scar Mr Nott, I'm afraid. I can't say whether or not it's a good thing, considering what he tried to do,but your venom has done serious damage to his nerves and muscles, especially across his chest. I was able to neutralise most of it before it killed him, but he's never going to have the strength in his left arm to lift his wand again, and he'll have weakened muscles throughout his chest. Including his heart. His father is arguing for a lesser sentence because he's a minor, but with as many witnesses as there were... Let's just say it's not going well for him."

Harry's heart felt like it was in a vise. In a moment of anger and instinct, he'd nearly killed a classmate, and he would never be proud of himself for that. But if he hadn't, then Hermione would be the one suffering in this bed. His nerves twitched and jangled with pain again, emphasising the thought. "There is no winner in a war," he murmured, " for it cannot determine who is right... only who is left." Hermione heard him, but could do little more than hug him a little tighter and double the intensity of her purring.

* * *

It took two days for Madam Pomfrey to agree to his 'escape' from the hospital wing, and then a rather large package arrived. Calling a meeting of the Chaos in the Chamber, the two felines opened it to find ten smaller boxes, each of lacquered ebony engraved with tigers in a fractal pattern. It seemed that the goblins had a sense of humour after all. Each box also bore a brass plate with a name engraved into it: Amber and Emerald were the first two, sitting at the top of the larger box, with the others arranged two-by-two beneath them. Once everyone was assembled, Harry distributed the boxes and their contents: each held a set of Basilisk-hide armour, engraved about the collars and joints with sizing and comfort enchantments, and including boots, gloves and a hooded cloak as well as the basic jacket and leggings. A note on the bottom of the box included a statement on the costs, and asked what they wished to do with the remaining half of the hide.

Everybody insisted on donning their armour then and there, well, not _then and there_, but with some privacy afforded by temporarily conjured walls, they were soon clad in the green-tinged black armour, with their Chaos names worked into the left breast above their hearts in the dominant colour of their House.

Ron pretty much summed it up as he pulled the hood of his cloak low over his face. "Admit it, guys, this stuff is wickedly cool."

"Yes, Ron," Daphne answered, rolling her eyes behind him. "It's also highly useful, especially if there are more people out there like Nott. You know the ones, more magic than brains."

_**Isn't that most of the Wizarding World?**_ wondered Hermione. _**Except us, of course.**_ Harry tried in vain not to chuckle, as it still hurt a little when he laughed.

An interesting enchantment had been placed on their armour, in addition to the various magics that allowed the garments to resize as their wearer grew, and to maintain their physical comfort in a wide range of temperatures and weather conditions. A simple command caused the outfits to transform into a pair of wide, basilisk-hide wrist-bands, or changed them back, and the command was set as the wearer's Chaotic name, and since the enchantment only responded to the wearer, it was a fairly secure set-up.

Harry, with advice from the others in the Chaos, requested that all the remaining hide be made into magic resistant cloaks, although he had not decided whether they would be sold or gifted to friends and allies yet. Once Hedwig was on her way with the message, the various members headed to their dorms. Harry waylaid Hermione, and the two passed a pleasant interlude stargazing on the Astronomy Tower under his cloak.

* * *

Ginevra hated her name. It was too fancy for Jennifer, and not fancy enough for Guinevere. She wasn't even sure _where_ her mother had come up with it from. As the young, part-phoenix witch wandered the corridors on this fine Saturday, with Valentine's Day only a few days off the older members of the Chaos having paired off for the Hogsmeade weekend (Ron had even manned up and asked Daphne if she'd do him the honour of allowing him to bask in her company; she'd poked his ribs with her spoon, but said yes), Ginny heard quiet choked sobs. She turned the corner and there, wedged between a suit of armour and the alcove wall, was Luna, crying as if she'd lost a friend.

"Luna? What's wrong?" she wasn't demanding anything, but she really wanted her childhood friend to answer. "Can I help with something?"

Luna raised her head, eyes brimming with tears. "No," she sobbed, choking back a great sorrow. "It has to happen. If it doesn't things get worse, and we lose Hermione, and Harry goes Dark, and the world is doo-hoo-hoomed!" Although Ginny didn't fully understand her friend, she knew she needed something, so the fledgling heliopath flared herself into the alcove behind the armour, and hugged Luna tight. Some of what she'd heard had sent chills up her spine. Her friend's childhood predictions had always had an odd habit of coming true, and she _really_ didn't want to imagine a truly dark and evil Harry, without Hermione's presence and heart to temper him.

"What has to happen, Luna?" she asked, uncertain if she really wanted to hear the answer, but unwilling to let the other girl bear it all alone.

"Harry has to kill someone, Ginny. He has to kill Umbridge."

* * *

The first warning anyone had of the emergency was the darkness that seemed to blacken the skies as over a hundred dementors gathered above Hogsmeade, and charged downwards into the town, filled with young couples and friends and happy memories. One person walked to the centre of town, clad almost identically to a dementor herself, with one glaring difference to the vile bodyguard that closed about her as she raised her right hand, clad in the stygian-black metal gauntlet that allowed her to command the terrible creatures. That difference was the fact that Delores Umbridge's tattered cloak was a horrendous shade of pink. It had taken her weeks to master this many of the horrors, and her efforts showed on her frame. No longer was she the horribly toad-like woman of days gone by. Now her flesh was taut and sparse, as if she were becoming one of the very things she now controlled. One word only did she say as the townsfolk, students and staff members realised exactly who she was and why they were doomed.

"Feed."


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "_Thoughts_"; _**Lingua Felinarum**_; {_Parseltongue_}.

Chapter 28: Let Chaos Rule the Day.

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was in an uproar. Reports that crossed Amelia Bones' desk indicated more than half the dementors had just been taken from Azkaban, and trying to pin down exactly who'd done this was difficult, as whoever it was had also taken a blasting curse to the cabinet that held the control devices a month ago. That wasn't even the worst of it. A single parchment had arrived on her desk from the Department of Mysteries, announcing the theft of a unique and exceedingly Dark relic called the Nazghul's Claw, which caused the horrendous creatures to treat the wearer as a queen bee, of sorts. What made it even scarier was the way it affected the wearer, eventually transforming them into a Queen Dementor. The last time there'd been one of those, Atlantis had fallen, and the magicals of the age had to drown their continent to stop her. As the alarms went off for the incursion at Hogsmeade, she was already giving orders to assemble teams for retrieval and containment, but with no control devices and the Patronus Charm being as difficult to master as it was (some _senior_ aurors had yet to master it), this was a disaster of catastrophic proportions. Hogwarts itself was under siege...

* * *

Harry and Hermione emerged from the carriage they'd shared with Daphne, Ron, Susan and Neville, just in time to see the raised hand of the pink dementor and hear her order. As the vile creatures of darkness and terror began to spread out, the Chaotics didn't have time to think, snapping out their wands and calling their Chaos names to summon their new outfits. Raising their wands they called on the only spell they knew that might help, although with the miasma of terror and pain and sorrow the dementors were exuding, it was much harder than they'd ever dreamed to hold onto the joyous memories that fuelled the magical guardians.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" they chorused, and the silvery tigers and cobra raced out into the sky, hideously out numbered, but still causing the things pause. Neville and Susan could only spray forth the misty shield, but keeping the creatures from closing with them was also important.

Ron Weasley, Firefetch, could barely dredge up the courage not to run. As he looked down at the wand in his hand, he knew he was actually holding the others back, that a few months of self- improvement wasn't enough to make up for years of sloth and neglect, and that he was going to get them all killed. His mood spiralled downwards, his heart getting heavier and heavier, knowing that Harry would be first, with Hermione shortly afterwards, then Neville and Susan would fall together and the Dementors would kiss... Daphne... He met her eyes for an instant.

Ron was not the most clever of the group. The Chaos may have gotten along perfectly well without him, and his first reactions, quickly overcome, to his two friends being together was not the joy he knew they'd deserved but anger that he had nothing similar. But Daphne had agreed to go out with him, even if it was only for that day, _he_ was supposed to make her happy. Rather than reach for a happy thought, Ron gripped his hand on the rage at these things for daring to strike at them _today_, of all days. And something in his mind clicked. You can't win a war fighting only from the defensive. The Patronus can't destroy them, it's made of happiness. Ron had his 'hands' full of anger. Anger destroys.

Following his impulse, Ron spoke. "Hermione, what's the Latin for 'destroyer'?"

"Really, Ron? _Now_ you ask that?" She hurled another patronus tiger between the dementors and the Three Broomsticks. The ragged wights were avoiding Honeydukes' like the plague for some reason, and she idly wondered what happened if you force-fed one of them chocolate. "It's 'perditor', but I don't know if this is the right time for remedial languages." Her exasperated tone stopped dead in shock as the redhead stepped beyond the misty shield Neville and Susan were struggling to maintain, raised his wand and howled into the faces of the monstrosities.

"EXPECTO PERDITUM!" Fuelling his words with every ounce of anger he possessed, every drop of magic, the vast red gryffin he called forth shimmered translucently, and charged forth to do battle, leaving his friends in awe of him somewhat, even as he collapsed, gasping out one word, "anger", as he did.

Harry heard him. As his mate began a diagnostic spell she'd seen Madam Pomfrey perform on him countless times, as Neville shifted position to once more cover Ron, as Daphne dropped next to the redhead with unshed tears blurring her sight, Harry realised that what took every drop of Ron's magic to perform was far easier for him. Thinking back on his years with the Dursleys, Harry stepped up. The patronus tigers and snakes were overwhelmed by numbers, and Ron's gryffin perditus was faded away, leaving a swath of tattered cloaks tangling in the wind from slain dementors.

"_Angry, huh? I can do angry._" Harry modified Ron's Charm with a multiplier, a sort of meta-spell picked up in Arithmancy: "EXPECTO PERDITOR CENTUM!"

A hundred crimson tigers answered his call, and immediately raced into the village, as Harry centred his sights on the pink cloak. It was _organising _the creatures, commanding them, and Harry knew it had to go. Ignoring the screams of his friends, pushing aside the yell Hermione gave to come back, he charged down the street at the thing in pink, ducking and weaving as no other could, all his Quidditch skills coming into play _while he was on the ground._ At the last moment, he shimmered and changed, and it was Emerald leaping through the air in a mighty pounce that smashed his prey to the ground, his claws raking out the heart as his jaws tore away the head.

He was startled by the sprays of blood, and as the dementors fled the village in fear, as the aurors and castle staff began to arrive, he changed back, looked at what he'd done, _who_ he'd killed, and screamed his pain to the skies.

* * *

In the castle above, Luna cried harder as her friends scream echoed through the corridors. Holding her tight and close, Ginny wept with her.

In the village, Neville and Susan sobbed, holding each other for comfort, not knowing what this meant for the Chaos. Behind them, Daphne cried softly, with Ron's head cushioned on her lap. Hermione walked up to Harry, the only one he'd let near him, and pressed herself against him. There were tears in her eyes also, but she only felt sad that he'd had to do it. She hadn't felt remorse at _who _he'd... slain, only that he'd been forced to. As Dumbledore directed the staff, and Amelia Bones the aurors, the two of them whispered quietly.

_**It was awful, Mai,**_ he murmured as he held her close, breathing in the growing scent of cinnamon. _**I thought she was just a different sort of dementor, but... and **_**_I_**** killed**_** her! What kind of monster am I? I'm not even sorry she's dead, so what does that make me?**_

Hermione had no words for him, only a comforting purr that she unleashed in full fettle upon him. She held him and nuzzled the spot on his neck that exuded the scent of licorice and mint. After a few moments of silence, she answered him. _**It makes you, and me Duati Bast'et. She commanded those things to feed, and that crossed a line. That brought our oaths into play. As Duati Bast'et, **_**we**_** are keepers of that line. It's not that you feel bad about her, it's that it had to be done at all. **_Holding him tight, she passed a few pleasant minutes snatched from the very mouth of the hell that Hogsmeade could have become, and found them even more precious for that fact.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore shook his head, and turned to Madam Bones. "It's terrible of me to think it, but today we were lucky. There were only two children kissed, and three adults. When you consider how many of those terrors there were, that's a good thing."

Amelia was not in a good mood. That anyone had died was unconscionable, in her mind. They should have gotten her before this happened. There was only one conclusion she could draw. "Watch yourself, Dumbledore," she said. "There's no doubt in my mind that someone supplied her with a means to get that gauntlet. The Unspeakables had it under lock and key since before there was a Ministry, and that means there's someone in their ranks who's against Potter. Maybe they support Riddle, maybe not, but if they have even one unspeakable, they almost certainly have an auror or two, possibly more. My advice is that you actually invoke Hogwarts' exterritoriality agreement, and enforce it. Only invite those you trust within the wards." A quick glance towards the edge of the village showed her where the youngsters in basilisk-hide uniforms (and where had they gotten those?) had gathered. Harry might deny he was their leader, but obviously they all thought differently. As she approached she saw the two felines straighten suddenly, and dash off towards Madam Puddifoots'. Doubting that they were struck by an inexplicable and undeniable urge for _tea_, she followed at a jog, collecting Auror Trainee Tonks as she went.

* * *

As they arrived in front of the teahouse, Harry and Hermione looked around, trying to pin down where the crying was coming from. At last, they found it, unaware of the audience they'd acquired in the form of Madam Bones and Nymphadora Tonks. As Harry peeled apart the ragged remnants of a fallen dementor, Hermione lifted out the soul of Hannah Abbot, and the two of them, whispering assurances and platitudes, more concerned with tone than content, guided her to where her body lay, attracting a much larger audience as they did, helping the girl to lie-down in what would soon have been a corpse. Susan choked up as she saw her best friend's body and ghost, burying her head in Neville's shoulder, until he turned her around to see Hannah's body draw in a long and shaky breath, and sit up slowly, sobbing her gratitude to the felines, and mourning the other Kissed student, her date for the day, Ernie McMillan. Her desperate gaze tore at Harry's and Hermione's hearts, but the dementor that had consumed his soul was one of the few that escaped. Hunting it down would take too long, by the time they found it, Ernie's body would have perished. All they could do was hold her, and try to help her recover. Saving her wasn't much, compared to the destruction and horror that had reigned today, but it was something, a tiny light that pulled Harry a little further from the darkness his heart had been staring into, that had been staring back...

* * *

In Azkaban, a number of dementors returned from their foray to hunt and feed shaking and trembling with a wrongness about them, a wrongness that spread amongst the foul things that had remained as their experiences were shared. For the first time in a thousand years and more, the dementors knew terror. By Morning, there was not even a singe one of the creatures left in the prison, abandoning it to flee into the unpeopled North was the creatures' only hope for survival.


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer: **Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "_Thoughts_"; _**Lingua Felinarum**_; {_Parseltongue_}.

Chapter 29: The Dawn of Summer.

The aftermath of the battle had been terrible. The whole school was emotionally drawn out, so badly so that Theodore Nott's trial, and his sentencing to Azkaban, barely raised an eyebrow. It was only Hermione and the efforts of the Chaos that kept Harry mentally healthy. Between the stress from that, and the effort required in their studies and later exams, it was almost too quickly time for the leaving feast. Hermione was a little surprised, but more than willing to help when they all wanted advice on how to study... even Ron. The redhead, more well-known for waiting till the last moment, even had all his work done ahead of the due date. Hermione was, of course, the top student in their year, with Harry managing to slip into second place, but Ron had managed to get into the top twenty, a feat that so many couldn't think would happen, the Weasley twins hadn't even bothered to set up a wager about it.

As they sat to eat, Professor Dumbledore rose. "Today, I have a most unexpected announcement to make. Would Ronald Weasley please stand?" As their red-haired friend stood, the felines and the other members of the Chaos glanced at each other. "Mr Weasley, I have here a letter from the Chief Unspeakable at the Department of Mysteries, a charming fellow who goes by the name of 'Corvus'. He asks me to let you know that your new spell has passed all their tests and a full working report will be forwarded to your home. The official title is the Perditus Charm, and you are receiving full credit for the discovery. You may sit down now, Mr Weasley." Indeed, Ron was so stunned by this announcement and its implications that his brothers had to assist him into his seat.

"To continue, I must announce that this year's House Cup again goes to Gryffindor. Well done. To those of other Houses, there's always next year. Remember to double-check your belongings tonight, and good luck on your way home." The old wizard was about to sit down when Professor Lupin cleared his throat. Dumbledore looked somewhat sheepish for a moment. "Oh yes, there are two more things. First, I regret that we must bid a sad farewell to Professor Lupin, who has been forced to step down as your Defence teacher by the Board of Governors. I believe the staff will miss him almost as much as the students will. However, he has received and accepted an offer as Seneschal to the Ancient and Noble House of Black, so he would seem to have fallen on his feet there. Finally, my last announcement concerns those who call themselves the Chaos of the Tigers. As of this very moment, I recognize your group as a fully sanctioned school club, and decree that your internal uniform is as much allowed attire as the Quidditch uniforms. To the more visible and recognizable members, our own Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, I extend the official gratitude of the school and Hogsmeade Village. Now that that's out of the way, Bon appetit!"

* * *

The kitty couple's observations the next morning as they rode the carriages and climbed onto the train were thought-provoking, to say the least. Ron had actually woken up early and helped Daphne with her trunk, not only keeping a Slytherin company, but giving her assistance and promising to write often. His initial payment for the Perditus Charm was more than enough for him to purchase a new owl, and while he asked his parents' advice on how to make the best use of the money, he did insist on new clothing.

As the felines searched the train for a good compartment, they found Susan and Neville sitting in one, and speaking quietly, in tones that even their vaunted hearing couldn't pick up as more than murmurs, which halted as the Bast'et entered and stowed their trunks. They didn't move away from each other though, getting closer if anything. By the time the rest of the Chaotics, bar the adults, had joined them, Hermione had managed to wheedle an admission from them.

"Yes, Hermione," Susan had finally declared, frustrated, just as Ginny and Luna had flared in, the blonde Ravenclaw having had to collect some of her 'missing' belongings (this fact irritated the Chaos no end). "Neville and I are going out together, now can you please be quiet about it? No further than the Chaos, at least, _please?_"

"How'd it start?" Daphne asked from the door as she and Ron entered, with her hair just the slightest bit out of place, definitely mussed but almost fully corrected. Not even a Legilimens would have gotten her to admit what had happened with Ron in the time they'd been alone.

"He was so sweet," Susan answered, having noticed the hair, but complying with the Slytherin's desire to not talk about it. "Always there in the background while I was helping Hannah. I can't imagine what she was going through in those minutes she'd been... out of her body. Her mum and dad came to get her the next morning, to have her checked out by St Mungo's best, and she flooed home this morning with the Headmaster's dispensation... When they left, it all just hit me. My best friend had been killed by dementors, worse than killed, and you two brought her back. I just couldn't process it and I was about to break, right then and there. Then suddenly he was holding me, all warm and caring and solid, telling me she was fine, and she'd stay fine if the Chaos could have anything to say about it. He let me cry on his shoulders, and that was it. I was gone, head over heels."

Turning to Neville she smiled. "He is _not_ getting away." Neville's gulp at that point was a little theatrical, a touch overdone, but everyone laughed anyway. Hermione snuggled into Harry's side, and Susan into Neville's, for the rest of the ride, while everyone spoke about what was going to happen during the holidays. When Ron brought up the Quidditch World Cup that would be taking place that Summer, Harry scoffed a little.

"Tell your dad not to push about the tickets," he told his ginger friends, "Sirius told me that the House of Black has a box for these events, and since he adopted me, we're going to use it. If you want, I'll ask him if I can invite you all to join us." Ron's and Ginny's reactions were astounding. After a glance at each other, they proved they were related to Fred and George by dropping to their knees on the compartment floor and crying "We're not worthy!" over and over as they raised and lowered their arms like some kind of worshippers. Said brothers, passing by, inquired why their youngest siblings were doing this, and upon hearing the reason, joined them. While everyone was laughing at this, Harry wondered idly exactly what the twins' animagus forms would be.

_**Should we give thought to 'spreading the Chaos'? **_he mewled to his mate. Divining his thoughts was becoming second nature to her, and after a quick glance towards the twins, she nodded.

The rest of the journey passed as only time in good company can.

* * *

Before they entered the barrier to King's Cross Station from Platform 9¾ harry and Hermione double-checked their collars to ensure the Glamour were functioning. They'd gotten so used to their feline forms that they almost never bothered with the glamours at school. Each time they had, they were left wondering who that odd person in the mirror was. Sirius had been waiting for them with Remus, and the two adults were right behind the kitty couple as they stepped through the barrier to the muggle world.

The Doctors Granger spotted their daughter and her boyfriend, emerging from the crowd around the pillar that hid the gate to the magical platform. As she saw them, she dashed over to them and engulfed them in a hug that was only outdone by the ones she saved for Harry. As the young man joined them, the two men behind them were observed carefully. Introductions followed quickly, and explanations as to their presence.

"So, you'd like to come and see where Harry's been staying?" Samantha Granger asked Sirius. Learning that Harry'd been adopted by the Lord in front of her was a bit disconcerting, but she was determined to treat him no differently than any other because of it. After all, he still had to care for his teeth, just like anyone else, right?

"Only if it's not too much trouble of course," Sirius said smoothly. "I wouldn't want to trouble you overly. Besides, I believe we need to speak concerning their relationship, and the boundaries they've set. After all, as loving parents, your darling child's boyfriend must be a great issue for you to focus on, yes?"

As Hermione's parents focused their gaze on her, she lashed her tail in what was now her only visible sign of embarrassment. "Yes," said Michael, giving Harry a quick glare, even if he wasn't totally responsible for the problem. "Yes, it is."

Once they'd gotten to Hermione's home, and after an embarrassing interrogation that revealed to the Grangers the full extent of the kitty couple's intimacy, and the reasons for it, the three parents and Remus sent the two to Hermione's room while they discussed the full impact of this information.

"It's not that we don't trust you, kitten, or we wouldn't be sending the two of you off alone. It's that we have to understand and come to grips with that information." Michael Granger was an earnest man, and he was giving the boy who'd more or less chosen _his_ little girl as being worth more to him than his very life a serious assessment. From the stories he'd heard of this year, Harry had venomous claws, impressive strength, incredible speed and unbelievable reflexes. Heck, the previous year had seen him slay, with Hermione's assistance, the deadliest of creatures the magical world had with the exception of something called a Nundu. And yet, he was scared of Michael Granger, a middle-aged dentist, ex-SAS but out of shape, using the word 'neuter' around him.

While the adults were discussing the developments in the kitty couple's interactions, the felines in question were lounging on the floor in her room, getting their Summer homework out of the way. Then they turned their minds to their Ancient Runes and Arithmancy project. As they'd managed a full nine symbols and meanings that year, including their purposes, effects and interactions, and which sounds in Lingua Felinarum they represented, they played with them a little. 'Harmony' to blend effects, 'Eternity' to make them last, 'Motion' to produce flight, then reversed and blended with 'Protect' to make a cushioning charm, 'Precision' for control and finally, 'Storm' to improve the speed of 'Motion'. Applying these to an old hobby horse that Hermione had almost forgotten about having, and attaching and binding a large number of broomstick twigs marked with 'Precision', left them with a broomstick they'd made themselves. Harry and Hermione glanced at each other, nodded and added a final touch. Together they transfigured the horse's head on the front to that of a black tiger. All that remained was binding a set of stirrups.

Raising their heads from their work, the two of them realized they were being watched by all four adults. Sirius in particular was staring at the broom they'd just finished. "How... these are.. and that goes..." He looked at the felines with unshed tears in his eyes. "Can I try it?"

It reminded them so much of the old Ron that Harry and Hermione collapsed laughing, even as Remus mockingly scolded the canine animagus. "We came up here to talk sternly to them, and you see a broom and that goes out the window."

Sirius grinned, then gave his friend a shining example of 'puppy-dog eyes'. "B-but Moooneee, it's a brand-new, never-before-seen, one-of-a-kind prototype brooomstick. I've just gotta have one," he whined, imitating a six-year-old wheedling for a present. Harry was certain Dudley would have thrown something at someone in that situation and yelled something that boiled down to "Gimme! Now!", and laughed harder because of it.

Part of the adults' discussion had indeed been about the sudden and physical progress of Harry and Hermione's relationship. The two teenagers were very responsible, but all it took was one mistake and they'd be looking at kittens way ahead of schedule.

Testing the new broomstick was a matter of visiting the Burrow for Harry to put it through its paces, which he did with determination to find its limits. The 'Black Tiger', using Ailurin runes, was incredibly swift, and handled very much like an extension of his own body. When Hermione tested it, she found herself enjoying flight for the first time. For her, the experience was much like Harry's, even though the broom was a bit faster and a lot more manoeuvrable than Harry's Firebolt. No-one else could coax as much from the broom. It was as if the broom knew they were aligned with the runes that enchanted it, and gave more for them than it would for another. The kitty couple made another broom, almost exactly like it, to see if the results were identical, and soon determined that they were. The new brooms could outperform a Firebolt... but only with a feline riding them. For anyone else, they were no better than a Cleansweep 5.

* * *

It was when they returned to the Grangers that they received the dreaded 'talk'. Knowing it was far too late for the whole 'this is how it's done, so don't do it' approach, the Doctors Granger and Sirius opted instead for a frank discussion around the table. Even as they spoke, the kitty couple were each becoming more and more aware of the other, making it hard to concentrate on what was being said. To allay everyone's fears, they made the decision easily. Putting it into practice would be tricky, though.

"Other than when the heat is really pressing me," Hermione informed the parents, "all we need to do to satisfy the urge is to kiss and snuggle. If Harry wasn't able to smell me, I don't think he'd have any problems, even on those three times a year. The downside is, if he wasn't there those three times when my inner cat is... _insisting_ on action, I honestly think I'd go mad. Moony told you what we did to the cages?" As the adults nodded, Harry took over the discussion.

"Those cages are meant to hold magical creatures that are far stronger than we are. It's our claws and the venom in them that allows us to tear through them, and I firmly believe that even if we were to encounter a cage we couldn't break, our inner cats would use the Schroedinger Charm, so that puts containment right out the window." He spoke with a simple conviction. Hermione had silenced her room earlier that day, knowing she wouldn't be thinking straight tonight, or possibly the night after. Reluctantly, the adults saw the felines' point. She was taking the potion, but the central worry was their age... especially in the muggle world.

That night, the feline lovers chose to pass the time in their tiger forms, anxiously waiting for the heat to strike, which it failed to do for now. When Michael and Samantha came up to wake them for breakfast, they stared at the two black tigers in awe, it being the first time they had seen these forms. It was the following night before vague, heavily muffled sounds of two creatures striving to become one filtered through the silencing wards on the parents chose to overlook it, although Sirius did tease them about it at breakfast.

After that, the following month passed quickly, with shopping trips for clothes. Armed with a minor transfiguration spell to adjust the clothes around certain traits, such as their tails, Harry and Hermione relaxed and enjoyed themselves, with the emerald-eyed catboy even learning to swim.


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer:**_Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though._

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "_Thoughts_";**_Lingua Felinarum_**; {_Parseltongue_}.

**Chapter 30: Chaos at the Cup.**

"_That's it,_" thought Harry from the bottom of the pile of people dumped by the portkey from Stoatshead Hill. "_I hate portkey travel._" The sensation of being dragged through a non-space that was constantly in flux, shifting with every tiny distortion, by what felt like a fish-hook threaded through the back of his navel was a disconcerting one, and he could see that Hermione had liked liked it exactly as much as he had. He could hardly avoid seeing her reactions as she'd landed squarely on top of him. The overwhelming sensory input of the trip had played havoc with their feline senses, including balance, and so when the portkey had released them, they were even worse off than the less sensitive members of their group. The only one to remain standing was Ginny, who smirked at them lying in a heap on the grass.

It was the work of a few moments to get everyone sorted out and straightened up, before clearing the arrival point before the next portkey triggered. They moved in a group towards the camp-sites where a somewhat confused old man took the money for their site and gave them directions. The Weasley tent was set up quickly and expertly by Fred and George, while the girls' tent took a little longer and Harry, Sirius and Remus tried to raise theirs. Either that or wage war upon it, onlookers found it difficult to say. By the time they'd finished, Neville, Susan and Daphne arrived. The tents were laid out in a sort of cul-de-sac, with the girls' tent in the middle at the end, the Weasley tent (where Arthur, Ron and the Twins would stay) on the right, and the Black tent (which was, surprisingly, grey) on the left. Ginny was sharing that tent with Daphne, Susan and Luna, while Hermione was bunking with Harry, Sirius, Remus and Neville as there were only four beds in each tent.

* * *

As they made their way to the Black Box, a reserved seating section next to the Ministry Box, Ron grabbed Omnioculars for everybody, paid for by a fraction of his share of the proceeds from the sale of 'Basilisk Bits', as they called it. As they mounted higher into the stands, with the kitty couple safely in their glamour-bearing collars, they encountered the odious presence of Lucius Malfoy. Behind him was his wife Narcissa, and a teenage boy that they had to look at twice before recognising Draco. As they scrutinised the Malfoy heir, they noted the differences. The old Draco had been soft, every inch a pampered princeling, spoiled and loud and obnoxious. _This_ Draco was quieter, appraising everyone around him with a cool gaze, and his physique was anything but soft. Busy with their examination of Harry's old nemesis, they'd missed most of Lucius' argument with Arthur and Sirius, but when the blonde wizard moved his cane to catch at Sirius' arm as he began some barely veiled threat or another, Harry lashed out.

Due to the glamour surrounding him, no-one saw his claws as they swept across the Malfoy Head's cane, just below the ornamental grip, right where the arrogant wizard concealed his wand. There was a brief shower of sparks as the top of the cane tumbled across the floor planking, before disappearing over the edge, as smoke curled up from what was left. Now dumbstruck, Lucius drew himself up, growing red in the face. Before the angry wizard could unleash his rant however, an unexpected voice snorting in laughter before muffling it froze everyone.

"Oh, give it up, Father," said Draco, feigning a yawn as he offered his mother an arm. "You gloated and boasted, you chose to confront openly, you made threats and blustered." He turned to Narcissa as he escorted her towards the Ministry Box, speaking loud enough for there to be no doubt he meant them all to hear. "Mother, I really don't want to doubt you, but are you certain Father was in Slytherin? He seems to have acquired some dreadfully Gryffindor-esque qualities."

As everyone watched Lucius Malfoy somehow pass through most of the shades of red known to man, and few known only to snakes, Harry took the chance to glance at the note that Draco had somehow slipped him.

_Potter,_

_Even though I am never likely to enjoy your company, and am even less inclined to be your friend, I find myself obliged to grant you my thanks and gratitude. Being at Durmstrang has opened my eyes in many ways, including that all my power and privilege rested solely in the hands of another. Yes, it was my father's hands, but that meant I had no personal measure. I was little more than a puppet and a set of eyes at Hogwarts. I owe you gratitude for the circumstances that brought me to a place where all that influence meant nothing, and I had to earn my own. While I doubt we shall ever be friends, I shall strive to ensure that neither shall we be enemies. I _have _heard of what happened to Nott._

_Draco Abraxus Malfoy, of House Malfoy._

Harry stared in the direction in which the Malfoys had gone, and smiled. Maybe this would all work out in the end after all...

* * *

The Black Box stood in one of the six towers around the course, about 70 feet in the air. Gazing around at the other Boxes, he could identify the Ministry Box as the next one clockwise from them, with other important Houses having claim to the others. The noise was incredible as the crowd cheered for their respective favourites. Fred and George had been about to place bets with a fellow called Ludo Bagman, but Pakhet, in her role as Toggletrust, snarled at the gambler and sportsman, leading to them finding a goblin to take their highly improbable wager. They wouldn't get odds quite as good as Bagman was willing to offer, but they were at least guaranteed of delivery if they won.

"Ireland to win, but Krum gets the snitch, eh?" Harry chuckled. "How much do you have on it?"

Forge and Gred muttered the total of their life savings, and Harry whistled low. With the odds the Goblins were offering, that particular circumstance would net them quite a large sum, around 400 Galleons, if the maths was right, and effectively hedged their bets with an either or trick. Turning to the goblin, Harry spoke quietly.

"Honoured goblin, my friends are not trying to hedge their bets, they are specifying exact conditions. If they will sign off on an agreement to not pursue restitution in case of a partial fulfilment of the conditions, might they receive odds that are a little better?"

A few minutes later saw the twins grinning at the wager receipts in their hands as they sat down. Harry had placed what he considered a moderate wager on the same outcome. After all, he had reasoned, the Weasley family lived, breathed, ate and slept Quidditch, or so it seemed, and the twins were very good judges of people and possibilities. His bet was quite a bit higher than the twins, and the same odds that would give the twins 600 Galleons would net him significantly more.

* * *

As the announcements were made, the Bulgarian mascots emerged onto the field. Although they looked like human girls, Harry's nose told him they were not. As they danced, something seemed to come over large numbers of male spectators, and there was an en masse surge towards the rails that, fortunately, were enchanted to prevent the crowd from hurling themselves onto the pitch. Interestingly, among those in the Black Box _not _affected were Remus and Sirius. The one due solely to his lycanthrope's senses, but no-one was sure why Sirius was able to shrug off the cascades of Allure from the direction of the pitch. Oddly perhaps, neither Ginny nor Luna could bring themselves to look at each other, or anyone else for that matter, directly, somewhat embarrassed by something.

Next came the Irish mascots, leprechauns that flung their fey gold about willy-nilly, although in a move that would have been out of character for him as little as a year ago, Ron scooped up a handful and hurled it back, yelling as he did. "OI! CLEAN UP AFTER YOURSELVES, WE DON'T WANT SODDING GREAT PILES OF LEAVES AND TWIGS LYING AROUND THE BOX, YOU KNOW!" In a lower voice, as an aside to Lupin, he muttered "Thanks for that lesson in May, Professor, I'd have made a right prat of myself otherwise."

Hermione chose this moment to bring up a minor issue with her mate. _**Harry, what were you thinking when the Veela were dancing? **_she mewled. He had definitely reacted, but her nose told her lust had had nothing to do with it. She had also had a reaction, of sorts, although again, nothing like the embarrassment that Ginny and Luna had displayed.

Harry may not have been expecting the question, but he knew 'his' Hermione well enough to smell when she didn't tell the whole truth, and rather suspected she could do the same in regards to him. So he answered honestly. _**I felt hungry, Mai. Like there was a vast chicken dinner sitting just out of reach.**_

_**Me too,**_ she replied with a low purr. _**There's something about them that smells a little like Skyfire, if you think about it.**_

Harry nodded. There were definite scents of feathers and fire in the Veela, although it wasn't quite the same as the young heliopath's scent. Ginny's scent was more of pure fire, like sunlight through clouds, while the Veela bore a scent more akin to burning driftwood, or possibly barbecue. Then the match began, and they were all absorbed in the action.

* * *

Harry had to admit, that Viktor Krum could _fly_. He'd managed to catch the snitch a bare few seconds too late, as Ireland's chasers managed to score that one last goal too many, allowing them the win, even though the Bulgarian seeker finished the game. Through the Omnioculars, he could see the distaste for the match's outcome on Krum's face. He was holding in anger, Harry was certain. As he put the enchanted lenses away, he noted an extremely pale Ludo Bagman in the Ministry Box, and chuckled. _**Shark steak for all of us tonight! **_He yowled over the crowd's noise, triggering a moment of silence, which was extended by his mate's reply.

_**Thanking Pakhet for something?**_ The kneazle had really grown over the past year, and her favourite food was the meat of the most dangerous fish on Earth. Harry's mewled reply explained why the kneazle was being rewarded. From the looks of Bagman's face, he'd made the wrong bet, and wouldn't have been able to pay the twins what they'd bet, let alone what they'd won.

The entire group had made their way down to the tents, and were about to turn in for the night, when it began. Screams and panic were spreading throughout the camp as a number of people in long black cloaks and robes, their faces concealed behind silver skull-masks. They marched through the darkness, hurling spells at a whim, and the frightened wizards and witches fled. Perhaps worst of all was the muggle family they had lifted into the air, juggling them from one levitation spell to the next.

The entire Chaos' eyes went flat and hard. Even as Arthur, Fred and George began to direct them, they were already moving, and a chorus of Chaotic names summoned their own outfits.

Emerald was in the lead, with Amber on his right and Grizzlegrim on his left, with Rumblerend on _his_ other side. Firefetch took a central position, trying to pick out targets and tactics, while Midnight and Spiral held a rearguard action with Moony and Padfoot on _their_ flanks. But it was Skyfire who took the first action that drew the Death Eaters' attention to the Chaos of the Tigers.

Ginny had felt useless in the Battle of Hogsmeade, where most of the Chaos had had _some _role to play. All she'd done was hold and comfort Luna... a quick shake of her head brought her back to the Present even as she summoned her basilisk-hide gear. She'd made a suggestion that the others had accepted with alacrity: the addition of a scarf in the House-colours of each Chaotic, meaning crimson and gold for most of them, although Luna wore sapphire and bronze, Susan had black and yellow, and Daphne wore emerald and silver. Even as the scarf appeared, she shifted.

It was but a few seconds before Skyfire the phoenix flared onto the scene with a strident war-song ringing from her throat, and the Death Eaters flinched, pained from the purity of the notes, missing the 'catch' of their levitation charms with the muggle family. Ginny managed to catch both children at the top of their arc, just as their momentum failed, and flared them back to Luna and Daphne, even as Remus and Sirius caught the two adults with their own levitation charms and the Death eaters struggled to their feet once more. But Harry and the others had not been idle, lashing out with stunning jinxes to drop the nearest dark wizards. One of them had flinched in what could have been recognition, and Harry could have sworn he saw the tell-tale blonde locks as the man collapsed from Hermione's spell. As two of those remaining standing dove for cover, the third crouched and turned to revive the downed Death Eaters, and took a stunner from Neville that had him down.

There was shouting, screams, and spellfire, with the teenagers and their adult friends _very _grateful for their armour, but the tight-knit group that was the Chaos had a plan. At Ron's direction, they left the stunned Death Eaters lying there as they all took cover in the nearby woods. But they weren't cowering in terror as the dark wizards wanted, oh no. They were lying in wait. By the time the aurors had everything under control, the Chaos had brought the pile of stunned Death Eaters up to an even dozen, by the simple expedient of ambush. The ones lying on the ground were a form of bait, and whenever another Death Eater began to revive them, they were brought down by concentrated spellfire from the woods. Even as the magical law enforcers approached, they heard a hissed voice from deeper in the woods calling out "_Morsmordre!_", and Harry and Ron sprayed stunning jinxes liberally into the area. There was a cry and a thud, as of a small body falling onto soft earth and leaves, and then silence.

* * *

Madam Bones had quickly taken charge of the scene, despite the interference that came in the persons of Minister Fudge and the grouchy Barty Crouch. The latter, explained Mr Weasley, was in charge of the Department of International Co-operation. It was Luna who brought up the question the entire Chaos was asking in their heads.

"If he's always this grouchy, do we ever _get_ any co-operation?" Her innocent voice, coupled with what would become a highly accurate reporter's instincts, brought both politicians to a stuttering halt. As the prisoners were unmasked one by one and taken away for questioning, Fudge kept up a quiet grumble. Crouch was glaring daggers at Sirius, who grinned back somewhat cheekily, obviously holding back from thumbing his nose at the bureaucrat.

The prisoner Harry was sure was blond turned out to be none other than Lucius Malfoy himself, and fudge was loud and vocal in the man's defence. "Obviously this is a mistake, or a set-up. Lucius must have been coerced into this, I'm sure, the man's no more a Death eater than I am..."

Lord Black made an appearance then, springing out from the depths of the easy-going trickster that was Sirius Black, as he tore the left sleeve from Malfoy's robe, revealing the Dark Mark for all to see. "Then I guess that raises some long overdue questions regarding _your_ left arm, doesn't it, Minister?" he sneered, as skilled at it as the man before him. It just wasn't the default setting of his face. "Perhaps, if you have such faith in the man, you will both subject yourselves to Veritaserum? From what I recall in my own time as an auror, Mr Malfoy will be getting such questioning anyway, won't he?"

The last question had been directed to the Head of the DMLE, and she nodded. "After the debacle in your own trial, we must ascertain precisely who is innocent and who is not," Amelia said. "If the man has nothing to hide, he has nothing to fear." The Minister was a few shades paler, and hastily remembered pressing affairs somewhere else... anywhere else.

Perhaps the worst part of the aftermath was the discovery of the House-elf Winky with a wand in her hand. It was just wrong that Barty Crouch had dismissed the poor thing with clothes, and without listening to the protestation of innocence and following instructions, Hermione thought, and she stepped forward to comfort the poor creature as best she could, and in the following quarter-hour learned more about the enslavement of House-elves than was enough to make her nauseous. The original elves had been haughty, proud and arrogant, considering themselves above all other creatures, sort of like a more magical version of Malfoy, until a powerful wizard by the name of Gwydion ap Hywell had laid a devastating _geas_ upon them all, placing them in servitude on pain of their magic and life. If an elf had no master, using their magic would quickly erode their life-force until they went mad or died... or both. Stronger elves could hold out as much as seven years, but that was it. To herself, the young feline witch made a promise to break this _geas_ if she could, and to at least better the lot of the House-elves in any case. She needed to talk to Harry...


	31. Chapter 31

**Disclaimer:**_Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though._

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "_Thoughts_";**_Lingua Felinarum_**; {_Parseltongue_}.

**Chapter 31: Of Trials, Travels and Transformations.**

The atrium of the Ministry of Magic was a huge open space, dominated by a massive golden sculpture that Hermione noted presented the wizard as higher than any other, with the witch lower, and the centaur, goblin and house-elf standing in support of them. An unlikely scenario, given the way the Ministry and the pureblood traditionalists ran things. Making a mental note that it would be melted down and used as currency, both actual and political, when _she_ became the Minister, she glared again at the summons in her hand. She was not alone in this, all of the Chaos, with the obvious exceptions of Sirius and Remus, had received them, demanding their presence in court to answer to charges of underage magic occasioned by the kerfuffle at the Quidditch World Cup. Of course, knowing how bureaucracies functioned (badly), they had decided to arrive as a group, and early for the first hearing.

Upon arrival, they discovered that someone, let's call him Mr F, had chosen to upgrade the charges to require a full trial, and had changed the timing and agenda of the trial in order to catch them off-guard and try them _in absentia_. They now had ten minutes to reach the courtroom, something they would not be able to manage... at least, not without Ginny.

In Courtroom Ten, chosen for its intimidating structure and the Death Eater Trials it had held thirteen years ago, Cornelius Fudge looked over at the defendants' bench, which was occupied only by Amelia Bones. As the Wizengamot members took their seats, with several rather telling absences in certain chairs, he smirked. The resounding boom as the chamber's doors sealed and the anti-apparition wards he'd insisted on went up shook the chamber, and the plump little man that was the current Minister did a little mental jig. He'd just opened his mouth to begin his speech, no doubt intended to castigate and condemn the children for their absence and 'obvious disdain for the law', when a flare of flame and a muffled 'whoomp' drew everyone's attention to the now occupied bench.

Madam Bones smiled at her niece and her friends, clad in their Chaos of the Tigers garb, but with the hoods down, and the children quickly handed her a bundle of wands. As 'defendants', they weren't permitted to carry their own wands, and from what she knew, they were very capable of defending themselves without them.

"I protest!" Fudge was seeing all his carefully laid plan shred before his eyes. The children were obviously all present, and equally obviously showing a united front. If they'd been absent, he could have carried the 'trial' through to expulsion from Hogwarts and snapping their wands, and insisted on Obliviation. Now, their testimony, especially with Veritaserum, would clearly show their use of Underage Sorcery to have been Reasonable. He _really_ loathed whoever had put that word in the decree. As the Chief Warlock, eyes twinkling, dismissed his protest and proceeded with the 'trial' that was supposed to be a mere hearing, Fudge saw much of his political influence evaporating. "_But I'm the Minister for Magic,_" he thought furiously, "_they're supposed to be doing what _I _tell them!_"

* * *

In the end, all charges against the Chaos were overturned. The charge against the Statute of Secrecy had been laughed at, for the Minister's own standing orders for the arrangements surrounding the World Cup had the muggles in the area being memory charmed of the events anyway. Other loopholes that Madam Bones had brought up included the use of such magic to save lives (check), the use of such magic to apprehend known criminals (terrorism was a crime, too) and the use of such magic in self-defence (again, check). Further, the DMLE had the group listed as a trusted civilian resource. _That_ resulted in a good ten minutes of explaining the term 'need to know basis' to an increasingly irate Fudge. Madam Bones' closing statement was very pointed.

"These young men and women are a credit to their teachers, and an example to us all. My esteemed colleague, the Minister, would have you believe them as guilty of wrongdoing as the Death Eaters they opposed. He has presented a list of charges above and beyond the Underage Sorcery hearing that would be called for if it were almost any other children. Of course, I am sure there are some children who wouldn't even have to worry about the inconvenience of such a proceeding due to their parents' influence. I have seen no charge on this docket that can be supported by the evidence we have seen today. Since they certainly tidied up the area, I wouldn't even support a charge of littering. I apologise for the time that has been stolen from your no doubt busy schedules, especially so close to the day our children are supposed to return to Hogwarts."

* * *

Fortunately, the Chaos had planned to get their Hogwarts shopping out of the way today, and the extra time they spent in the Alley allowed Ron to pull Harry aside. The look on the redhead's face was a serious one. "Harry, can you do me a favour?"

Ron asking for something was a rare enough occurrence that he had his friend's full attention while Hermione and the other girls were looking at the robes in Madam Malkin's. "Go on," he replied.

"I've got a bad feeling about this year, so I spoke with Luna," Ron said, "you know she sees more than I do. She said this year is a bad one, too, but there's a few good things in it, or could be. So I did what Professor Trelawney told us, and just sat and cleared my mind. Harry, I saw two rings and a cake. A wedding cake. Then I saw a coin spinning, and I saw dull green and brown eyes, with no spark, no life, no magic. It's about you, mate. You need to be carrying those rings, or... I have no idea how bad it'll get."

The word had gotten around about Ron's occasional bouts of prescience at school. It was never the 'big stuff' as he'd termed it, always little things. This was the first time he'd ever seen _two_ outcomes to a vision, or even a vision at all. Harry nodded. "They're going to be busy for a while here, mate. Want to come to Gringotts with me? Maybe the rings you saw are in the Potter vault."

Quietly, the two best friends slipped out, letting Neville know where they were headed.

* * *

As Harry had predicted, the rings had indeed been in his vault. In fact, they had been his mother's engagement and wedding rings. Harry had gathered up both rings on a necklace, adding the simple band of gold that matched them, and the two young men had quickly made their way back to the others. Neville was praising Susan's dress robes as they arrived, while modelling a very flattering set himself. Hermione and Daphne had already chosen theirs, leaving only Harry and Ron to choose theirs. Harry went for simple robes, but the crests of House Potter and House Black sat side by side over his heart. One thing he insisted on, however, was a black tiger on each shoulder, right at the top of the arms, against the deep, rich red of the robes. The golden trim on the sleeve cuffs and the hem of the robes resembled flames, but that was as fancy as it got. As he was paying for his purchase, he overheard snatches of talk between the two youngest members of the Chaos.

"I can't see why it happens, or even _if_ it happens," Luna was saying. From what Harry had picked up on, she was explaining her Sight to Ginny. "I can only see the possibilities, a great number of them, but by no means everything. If you want an example, look at Hogsmeade last year." Harry shuddered as a wave of depression washed over him, as the blonde witch continued to talk. "I could tell that people were going to die, and if one had been Harry, everything would have been handed to Riddle. If Hermione had... had been... killed..." It seemed quite hard for the dainty witch to speak of that, as if memories of a future averted still plagued her. She took a deep breath and forced herself to go on. "If that had happened, Harry would almost certainly have gone mad with rage and despair, and the worst Dark Lord in _anybody's_ history, anywhere, _ever_, would have torn apart the world. I could see all that, and I could see that if Harry killed the Pink Monster, it would tear him up inside, but he'd get over it with his friends' help, and Hermione's love. I most certainly did _not_ see your brother inventing a brand new spell in a moment of desperation to beat the dementors, nor did I see that they'd be able to save Hannah from a Dementor's Kiss _after_ it had already taken her. It's like trying to see through smoke... you strain and strain, but you only ever get glimpses, and sometimes you just hurt your eyes."

"Whoa," Ginny breathed, amazed. "So what was that with Ron? I thought for a while that you were falling for him." Ginny had turned her face from Luna at that point, and although she didn't notice Harry, the green-eyed catboy was able to see her face clearly as the young heliopath bit her lip nervously. Her friend looked thoughtful.

"No," Luna said, decisively. "Maybe in some other universe, some other path through possibility, but not this one. This Ron is incredible, I admit. There were so many key points where he could have gone wrong, and he's managed to do the right thing at each." Luna rose and trapped one of Ginny's hands in her own. "But he's not the red-head for me..."

Harry chose to give them their privacy.

* * *

It was as they were boarding the Hogwarts Express that the kitty couple accosted the Weasley Twins. The two of them were speaking in a low hushed voice with Lee Jordan, handing what looked like owl order forms between them, pointing at the papers now and then. Harry waved Ron forward. "Your turn, Firefetch," he said. "Think you're up to it?" Ron nodded, and grinned.

"Hey George, Fred," he called, garbed in his basilisk-hide outfit. "I have something to ask you two." As the twins looked up, he made a spur-of-the-moment decision. Looking up and down the corridor, he saw Harry and Hermione running interference at one end, and Susan and Neville at the other. "Just for your consideration, would the two of you be interested in membership in the Chaos of the Tigers?"

"What standards..." said George (probably).

"Of entrance..." continued Fred (most likely).

"Does this require?" they chorused. Lee's eyes narrowed and Ron smiled.

"You've already been nominated and seconded, and both of you have been vetted by the others, and the only remaining requirement is the Animagus option." The twins eyes widened at that. The tales they'd followed of the Marauders said they were animagi, and they'd seen both Harry and Ginny in their animal forms. Of course Hermione was an animagus, too, but the thought that Ron, Neville and the others were astounded them.

"We're in!" they chorused, and Ron nodded to Hermione, who switched with Daphne and then entered the compartment where they'd cornered the twins. Pakhet raised her head as she lounged on the catgirl's shoulder, sneezed twice, and nodded, meowing for a few seconds before clambering into the lowered hood of Hermione's cloak.

"Toggletrust says they're good at heart, but trust them as far as you can throw them. They'll keep their word, but you've got to be certain of exactly what their word _is_." The bushy haired witch ran the back of her hand over her cheek and whiskers. "Here you go." She handed them the vials containing the revelation draught.

* * *

As the Express pulled into Hogsmeade Station, Ron decided he hated the universe's sense of humour. George was the talker of the twins, the salesman and ideas man. Somehow it was fitting that he had the potential to be a red fox. Fred on the other hand... Ron fought down a shudder. Sure, the other twin was the trapsmith, figuring out how to make their pranks and concoctions _work_, and laying ambushes and pranks practically, so it made sense... but he didn't have to like the fact that Fred could become an acromantula the size of Fang!


	32. Chapter 32

**Disclaimer:**_Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though._

_{Sorting Hat's song taken from HP&tGoF}_

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "_Thoughts_";**_Lingua Felinarum_**; {_Parseltongue_}.

**Chapter 32: Easy Come, Easy Go...**

Harry stared at the rain sheeting down beyond the station awning. His mate had put a great deal of effort in teaching him to swim, and if the rain were to fall just a _little_ harder, he'd probably have been able to swim to the carriages. His inner cat was _not_ looking forward to stepping out into that, and Hermione looked equally reluctant. Mustering their Gryffindor courage, they ran for the shelter the carriages provided. Shock jolted through them both as they saw the creatures in front of their transportation. Skeletal horses, was one way to put it, with huge leathery wings, and a bird-like beak. They weren't truly skeletal, having a covering of leather and horse-hair, but their level of gauntness came close.

"What are those?" they asked in unison. It was obvious that most of the students didn't see them. It was Luna who supplied the answer.

"They're called Thestrals, Harry, Hermione," she said. "You can only see them, if you have seen, and understood that you were seeing, death." Looking directly at the creature, she whispered. "I can see them because my mother died in front of me when I was nine. Spellcrafting accident. Ginny can see them because of the memories Riddle's diary shared with her. The rest of you... Umbridge." She didn't need to say more, and each member of the Chaos took comfort in the arms of their dear one.

The ride up to the castle was made unpleasant by the rain, and more so by the smell of wet cat that pervaded the carriage. It was obvious that the least comfortable in the carriage were Harry and Hermione, and she explained their lack of action. "Once we get up there, we have to go through the rain again, and if we've cleaned and dried ourselves, we won't want to."

Harry put his two knuts' worth in. "We're getting better at dealing with being wet because of our animal sides, but still, we _are_ cats."

* * *

As they approached the doors, they were greeted with a barrage of water-balloons, delivered by Peeves. As the water cascaded everywhere, Professor McGonagall came charging out, berating the pesky poltergeist. As she hit the puddle of water, she skidded and lost her balance. Harry moved in, catching their fellow feline on the left, as Hermione managed the same feat on the right.

"Careful, Professor," they chorused, then set about using drying charms on them selves.

"Yes, quite," muttered a slightly disoriented teacher. "I mean to say, thank you, Mister Potter, Miss Granger." As drying charms were liberally applied, both to students and the floor, the doors opened to the Great Hall.

As the students entered the Hall, Harry glanced around, taking in the empty seats at the staff table. There was Professor McGonagall's, of course, as she had gone to receive the first-years, and Hagrid's, there by Professor Sinistra, and that left one more... probably that of Professor Moody, as Defence had an unstable staffing at best. From what Hermione had read and shared with him, there had once been a year where no fewer than five would-be professors had taken up the post, and none of them had lasted more than a few months!

There was the usual awe-struck parade of firsties into the Hall, led by the Deputy Headmistress, and she moved to stand by the stool where the Sorting Hat perched. As the rip in its brim opened, the song poured out.

"_A thousand years or more ago,_

_When I was newly sewn,_

_There lived four wizards of renown,_

_Whose names are still well known._

_Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,_

_Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,_

_Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,_

_Shrewd Slytherin, from Fen._

_They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,_

_They hatched a daring plan,_

_To educate young sorcerers,_

_Thus Hogwarts School began._

_Now each of these four founders,_

_Formed their own House, for each,_

_Did value different virtues,_

_In those they had to teach._

_By Gryffindor, the bravest were_

_Prized far beyond the rest;_

_For Ravenclaw, the cleverest_

_Would always be the best;_

_For Hufflepuff, hard workers were_

_Most worthy of admission;_

_And power-hungry Slytherin_

_Loved those of great ambition._

_While still alive they did divide_

_Their favourites from the throng,_

_Yet how to pick the worthy ones_

_When they were dead and gone?_

_'Twas Gryffindor who found the way,_

_He whipped me off his head_

_The founders put some brains in me_

_So I could choose instead!_

_Now slip me snug about your ears,_

_I've never yet been wrong,_

_I'll take a look inside your mind_

_And tell where you belong!"_

As the various Houses broke into applause, the Chaos looked carefully towards the first years from their various seats in the Hall. With two main 'powers' from Slytherin in Harry's year gone, and the more capable members of that House (Daphne and her best friend Tracy Davis) siding with one Harry Potter-Black, there was little threat coming from those who remained. What they had to watch out for was the older and younger students. As the Hat sorted them each into their Houses, the kitty couple sat with their tails entwined, observing, noting which children went where, what their names were, and how they carried themselves in the company of others.

Once the sorting was done, and the feast was finished with, Dumbledore stood to make the school announcements. "It is my sad duty to inform you that this year's Quidditch Cup is canceled, and with it, all official Quidditch for the school year." Harry and Hermione's ears flattened back against their heads at the resulting noise, and they, as well as Pakhet, hissed at the cacophony even as Fred and George shouted.

"You must be joking!" they cried, disbelief and horror writ large on their faces.

"Sadly, no," confessed the old wizard. "Although I believe a man of that name works in Zonko's... poor man has no sense of humour at all, for some reason..." It took Professor McGonagall clearing her throat as she nudged the Headmaster with her elbow to bring him back to the topic at hand. "Oh, yes, sorry, now as I was saying..." The headmaster got no further as the main doors of the Great Hall, slammed open with a resounding boom, timed perfectly to coincide with a flash of lightning and roll of thunder, revealing a new figure standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the night.

The man was the most beat-up, battle-scarred veteran that anyone had ever seen, and Ron's nervous whisper carried clearly to his friend's feline ears. "That's Mad-Eye Moody... he's the one Dementors had nightmares about..."

Hermione sniffed primly, and groomed her whiskers. "But thanks to _your_ spell, Ron, Dementors have a new nightmare, one named Ron Weasley," she replied.

As Moody clomped forwards on his peg-leg, they caught a better view of the man. He was of middling height and indeterminate age, and moved carefully, as if he expected to be attacked at any moment, and his face was covered in scars of varying size and significance. Strapped to his head by a contraption of leather and brass was a blue orb, glowing slightly, that constantly spun about in its socket. As it spun, they caught occasional glimpses of something that could have been the 'pupil' and 'iris', that is, if it had been a real eye.

It was as he drew level with them, although he walked between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, a good fifteen feet distant, that Harry caught a faint whiff of scent, barely more than a taint on the breeze what with the fading scent of wet cats. It was familiar, but he couldn't for the life of him recall what it was... and then it was gone, as Moody continued his passage up the Hall.

The Headmaster again took the reins of the conversations. "Ah, yes," he announced. "I would like to introduce you all to Professor Alastor Moody, who will be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts this year." Pakhet hissed in the general direction of the staff table. The Kneazle, now full grown, had done nothing like that before, and Hermione began to wonder _why_ she was doing it now. However, Dumbledore's announcements continued, distracting her from thinking on it.

"As I was saying," he spoke, his voice carrying clearly through the silence that had been produced by the intimidating Defence Professor, "There is to be no Quidditch this year. In its place, the Ministry has informed me that Hogwarts will be playing host to the Triwizard Tournament."

Harry muttered under his breath, low enough that only Hermione heard him. "Let me guess... fantastically dangerous, horrendously lethal, and I'll be forced to compete."

His mate shrugged. "Don't be so pessimistic, that won't happen," she said, and paused as he cocked his eyebrow at her in disbelief.

"Let me count it up, shall I?" he said, smirking a little as arguments and discussions about the tournament sprang up around them, confirming the danger of the previous tournament, including the fact that the last three times it had been held had killed all the Champions. "First year, there was the troll, Quirell, Fluffy and Voldemort. Second year, we have Lockhart, the basilisk, public opinion and Riddle's diary. Third year we had the whole mess around Sirius and the dementors and … Umbridge." He stopped there, remembering the kill. For a moment his mind was blank, and then he went on. "_This _year, the Ouidditch World Cup was up in arms, and that was _before_ the school year began. I shudder to think what the forces arrayed against us are bringing to bear this time."

* * *

Their first potions class was pretty good, compared to the way that Professor Snape had treated Harry in the beginning. The only real downside was the potion he chose to have them all brew: Polyjuice Potion. The good news was that it was one of the many potions that the kitty couple's bodies treated as a poison, and so they were immune to it, while the down side was that to their acute sense of smell, it was torture to brew it. The stuff smelled worse than it looked, and both could confirm from personal experience that it tasted worse than _that_. The naggingly familiar scent hung around them for the rest of the day, although the potion itself would not be finished for weeks.

Professor Snape even made a particular point of being certain of the hair that you intended to add, as unexpected results would occur if you weren't. At this, the entire class looked at the two felines in their midst, as Hermione tried to hide her face in Harry's shoulder. He, of course, did not try to hide, as the school grapevine had long since told everyone that he'd _chosen_ to become like her once the change had been proven permanent.

* * *

After classes were done for the day, the Chaos of the Tigers drew away to meet in the Chamber of Secrets. With them were their prospective recruits, the Weasley twins. As the notorious pranksters were guided into the Chamber, a far more welcoming place than its previous incarnation, by Sirius and Remus, they were greeted by the full roster of the original members, standing there in their basilisk-skin outfits, with the hoods down, making it easy to see who they were. A glance to one side saw a board marked 'Potential Members', with their own names at the top, circled in red.

Harry stepped forward, his tail swishing behind him. "You said you had something important to tell us?" he prompted, the twins having left that message with Ginny earlier that day.

George spoke first, and for once, the twins withheld themselves from double-talk and twin-speak. "We found that, as twins we have a somewhat... unique trick to the Animagus transformation." He nodded to Fred, who took over.

"When we got back to the dorms last night, after the revelation potion, we felt a bit odd, see?" the other twin said. "And a few moments later, we changed again... for sixty seconds, just like the first time. But _this_ time, George was the spider, and I was the fox."

George again took up the story. "We spent our free period researching, and finally asked Professor McGonagall about possible explanations... in a purely hypothetical manner of course."

"She said that twins who are animagi are so rare as to be almost unheard of, but she did know of one pair... her own great-grandfather and his brother. Apparently the twin bond is such that if twins can be animagi, they can use each other's forms!"

"Interesting," Hermione mused aloud. "I wonder if Padma and Parvati... hmm..." She looked up at them. "I'm pretty sure that Professor McGonagall wasn't at all fooled ny your 'hypothetical' question, she's quite sharp. But she already knows about the rest of us, so I don't think that's going to be a problem."

* * *

The first Defence class was a disaster zone. The kitty couple were the first in the door, eager to learn after some of the rumours about Moody had gone around the school, but no sooner were they in the door than Pakhet's fur bristled along her back and she hissed at the teacher... and Harry and Hermione got a whiff of him as he lifted his flask to his lips, a scent filled with the now all-too-familiar odour of Polyjuice Potion. Hermione hissed out "Amber!", switching her school robes for her Chaos ones, as Harry did the same by saying "Emerald!". Hearing the leaders of the Chaos go into action, the others present (Neville, Ron and Daphne as the Gryffindors and Slytherins shared this class) also went into action, with Neville barking an order to a nearby portrait.

"Disturbance in Defence class!" he snapped. "Alert Professor Dumbledore and the rest of the staff!" He then whispered "Grizzlegrim." This was at the same moment as Ron's "Firefetch" and Daphne's "Midnight", so the corridor was suddenly occupied by three Chaos members, who blocked anyone else from entering the classroom.

Inside the room, 'Moody', whoever the imposter really was, was barely fazed by the sudden transformation of the children's robes, and mentally kicked himself for overlooking the kneazle and underestimating the reaction of the feline 'abominations'. His master's plan was in Jeopardy, and he had to succeed...

"Potter! Granger!" he yelled, trying to force his authority through intimidation, as he drew his wand with incredible speed... speed that was still as _nothing_ compared to the felines' reflexes, as even starting after he'd begun his draw, they had theirs out and pointed in his direction before he'd cleared the holster. "What do you think you're doing?" He knew the real Moody would have been proud of the 'Constant Vigilance' that had them bringing a kneazle... the catgirl's familiar if he remembered right... wherever they went, but somehow, he just couldn't get that far into the role he played, since they'd caught him out.

Even as Professor Dumbledore arrived, Harry answered 'Moody'. "Maybe you won't have realised, but our noses are very sensitive... maybe not so good as a dog's, but certainly a tiger's. On top of that, considering how we came to be what we are, we are intimately familiar with the scent of Polyjuice... I may not know who you _are_, but we know you are _not_ Alastor Moody!"

The imposter lashed out. If his master's plan A was discovered, they would realise he must have a plan B, although exactly what it was, he didn't know. It only made sense not to tell someone in his position inside enemy territory about the back-up plans. Still, even if his orders said not to harm Potter, he had free reign on the mudblood...

What happened next was absolute and undeniable proof, as far as Dumbledore was concerned, that the man wearing his old friend's face was _not_ Alastor. _He_ would have recognised the basilisk-hide making up the Chaos uniform worn by Hermione as such, and done something tricky to obviate the advantage. Instead, the imposter spat a Reductor curse at the catgirl... another mistake, as the spell deflecting from her cloak to strike the wall, blasting it into the corridor, where Neville took the form of Grizzlegrim, the Grizzly Bear, and shielded his classmates from the debris. He was knocked senseless by the flying chunks of stone, and Ron and Daphne took up station over their massive friend.

Harry was angry. The man in front of him was trying to hurt his mate! That could not be condoned, and had to be punished and he began yowling his spells in Lingua Felinarum. _**Disarm! Stun! Bind!**_

The impostor's shields never stood a chance, as the Disarming spell shattered them on the way through and drove the wand from his hand, hammering the impostor back towards the other end of the classroom. The stunner caught up with him before he got that far, and he was unconscious as he was driven into the old blackboard by the impact of both spells. He hadn't even time to fall down before he took the rope-binding spell full-on.

"Well done, Mister Potter-Black," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling like mad. "I believe you pass."


End file.
